The First's Sister
by lycanthrope232
Summary: Years after quelling the blight, the hero of Ferelden finds herself at the docks of the City of Chains, with her partner Leliana. Femslash Leliana/FWarden - Merrill/FHawke
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

The thin strip of wood beneath my feet bends and wobbles dangerously under my hurried footsteps. Threatening to break under my uncharacteristically heavy footfalls. My haste to escape the dreaded Batoidea, overshadowing a lifetime of training and pushing my forward.

When my feet finally land on solid stone my knees give out from under me and I topple crumpling to my knees as marvellous relief flows freely throughout my body. Uncaring of my current position, prone on the floor, I take a moment to look at the stone under bent legs and I fall forward embracing the earth. "Land." I say quietly to the rock beneath me. Silently thanking it for its sturdiness.

A disapproving voice behind me drags me from my ravine of bliss. "Must you do this every time?" The silk laced through her voice betrays her highborn heritage and the heavy accent her Orlesian roots. Under normal circumstances her voice alone would have eyes glued to her and whispers following her wherever she goes.

However today my actions are pulling the attention from her and even though normally I would shy away from such attention, today I am just glad to have found this patch of land in once piece. "Yes." Is my only reply pressing the side of my face against the stone, hoping to feel the earth, which is surly to lie beneath its surface. "It doesn't move." I offer by way of an explanation

I hear an exasperated sigh behind me and even though my eyes are closed I know she has one of her hands firmly planted on her hip and her eyes rolling in their sockets. "Ships float. They are supposed to move with the sea."

Cracking my eyes open and lifting my head just enough to be able to see her over my shoulder. "Next time we walk." I state, hoping my rural Ferelden lilt will leave no room for argument.

"Will we?" She asks, her eyebrow rising so high it disappeared beneath her hairline, I had almost forgotten, that with Leliana, there is always room for argument. Usually I lose. "The journey would have taken six weeks on foot. You know that."

Pushing my face once more into the stone, closing my eyes to revel in the stillness all around me and ignoring all of the passing stares that are sent my way. "But I don't like boats." Even though I would never admit it out loud, even I can hear the whine in my voice.

The ridged leather casing for her Ironbark bow lands inches from my nose, forcing my eyelids to spring open in surprise. She leans heavily against the casing, tilts her head downwards trying to keep eye contact even at this odd angle. "The Batoidea, is a ship not a boat." She corrects with an even voice.

Firstly, what's the difference? If it floats like a boat and bobs like a boat, it's a bloody boat. Secondly, who in their right mind calls their boat 'The Batoidea'? Not only is that a fish, it's a bottom feeding fish. Something which does not need to float! Why not call it something like 'The Floater' or 'The Boat'

"Please stop holding the dock." She says, pleading with me through her eyes.

"But... Land." I say going as far as to start stroking ground close to my face.

"Yes and I'm sure you can appreciate how still land can be, standing up. Preferably before you're thrown into an asylum." Her perfectly sculpted red eyebrows rise into her bangs. Almost challenging my to defy her logic.

"How can you be so indifferent?" I ask pushing my chest up, off the dockside. All she does is smile and I grumble all the way to my feet. "Alright I'm up."

"I see that."

"What now?" I ask, disgruntled at having to cut short my reunion with solid ground.

She keeps smiling, running her eyes along the length of my body in a way that reminds me why she usually gets her own way around me. "We need to find some lodgings."

I reach down to retrieve my forgotten pack and push it causally over the leather amour covering my shoulder. Careful to avoid catching the twin blades currently strapped to my back. "Let me guess. An inn. In the city."

She nods gently, knowing that I would rather be lying on a bedroll out in the open air with the wilderness and stars to keep my company. "I know Lyna but we can't really run reconnaissance for Alistair from the mountain. Now can we?" The use of my real name softens the blow. Only my closest friends, with the exception of Sten, still use my given name. The rest of the world as soon as they lean my identity only refers to me was 'Warden' or the 'Hero of Ferelden'. Nether title I either want or deserve.

My forehead creases into a frown, showing my discomfort. "Remind me again why I agreed to this."

She throws her head back and laughs. "I'll show you later." Her eyes sparkle with mischief and a shiver of anticipation runs through my spine.

Inns have beds and beds can lead to naughtiness, the sooner the better in my opinion. "So, which inn?" I ask trying and failing to sound innocent.

She laughs again, squeezing my shoulders and puling me closer to the side of her body. Then tactfully ignores the lustful look, which I can feel plastered across my face. "I've herd, nothing but good things about 'The Hanged Man.'" She says stepping forward and leading me into the City of Chains.

"No you haven't." I say, already turning my nose up at the idea. "That pace is no better than the 'Gnawed Noble'."

"And how much information did we gather from the Gnawed Noble?"

I hadn't even thought of that. "Sometimes I forget why you're the bard and I'm the thief." After a long sigh I resign myself to her superior logic. "Fine. We stay at the 'Hanged Man' but don't blame me if I get into another bar fight."

"As if I would spoil your fun." she releases my shoulders to pull her pack more securely over her back. "Just try not to draw too much attention to yourself this time."

"I'll try." I say, knowing that as soon as I have a few drinks in my belly I will all but forget the promise.

She shakes her head with a smile. "That's all I ask."

Kirkwall. The City of Chains. Even the name is enough to have a Dalish elf quaking in her boots. Why do Shems insist on using so much stone and iron? Then to cap it all off carve in intricate detail my ancestors being lead from the docks into the city. Chains lashing them together as they mournfully leave the warmth of the sun far behind, only a lifetime of enforced servitude in their future. The thought alone sends a shiver down my spine and I determinedly pull my gaze down to my feet, trying not to think of how many slaves have walked this path before.

The streets bustle with the kinds of life that only a city can provide as Leliana leads me down a multitude of winding streets. Rats cling to walls as they scurry towards the docks in hopes of a meal from the prevision bright in by the sailors. Peddlers bellow loudly about their wares to any passes by, from fresh fish to fine china all are displayed in droves catching the eye of more than one passing traveller as they travel to and from the dockside.

My sharp eyes catch a cutpurse practicing his trade and I find myself smiling and resting my hand protectively over my own coin purse at the same time. It's nice to know that some things are always constant no matter which city we travel to.

The run down tavern is so close to the dockside, far to close to the docks. You can still hear the blasted seagulls and smell the salty air from the doorway. I had never even seen an ocean before I became a Grey Warden and started travelling with a bunch of misfits. Now I have to live next to the bloody thing for the foreseeable future. "I am going to hate it here." I say turning back towards Leliana.

"I know." She says pushing the latch to the door and letting it swing open with a creak. "Look on the bright side. Tomorrow you can take me shoe shopping." She throws an exited smile in my direction and disappears into the tavern.

"You already have enough shoes!" I call out stepping beneath the threshold into the inn. The intense din of Shem conversation immediately hits my ears, forcing me to wince. The one thing I cannot get used to in human sociality is crowds and the unbelievable noise that they can make. It takes a few moments for my sensitive ears to become accustomed to the incoherent noise and I try to ignore the building pressure behind my eyes as I make my way over to the bar, with the full intention of drinking off my impending headache.

I drop a sovereign down onto the withered wooden bar, hoping it's glint might catch someone's attention and call out to the busy barmaid. "Can I get a drink over here?"

"Ya can wait ye turn!" Is the only answer that is shouted down from the other end of the long bar.

I smile at the rude shout. That would never have happened in Ferelden. Everyone from beggar to farmer to noble knows my face. It's nice to come into a place and not be treated differently.

"Well, by Andraste's tits. Look who it is."

I know that voice. "Isabella?" Somehow, and I'm not sure how exactly, I manage to keep my chin off the floor.

She lands sideward on the bar heavily, resting her elbow against its surface, rocking slightly from side to side at the abrupt halt in her movement. The sent of whisky wafting to my highly sensitive nose after each breath she takes, the silly smile plastered across her face and her half closed eyelids tell me she has had more than a few drinks this afternoon. "Fancy seeing you here." She says her full lips pulled into a grip that makes her eyes twinkle mischievously.

"I'd say the same." I cautiously take the coin off the bar and hold it between my fingers, knowing that the pirate would be unable to resist the golden coin on display. "But this is a tavern, near the docks, close to a brothel. So where else would I find you?"

"Aye. Only place I'd rather be is on the deck of the 'Sirens Call'. Since that's not an option here I am." Again why would you call your ship that? A sirens call is said to lure sailors to their doom on the reefs, why temp fate in such a way? "You have the smell of the sea about you. Just docked?"

I nod tuning my head towards the barmaid again. "Yes. Thank the Creators."

"Don't take this personally but you don't look like the sea faring sort."

She doesn't know how right she is. "Not to feed the stereotype but give me frolicking around the forest any day."

She looks thoughtful for a moment. "Would this frolicking involve nakedness?"

I know I shouldn't be surprised that the years haven't mellowed her. "No."

She makes a noise in the back of her throat and her forehead creases in thought. "Shame." She only smiles at my reaction, then turns towards the barmaid. "Norah!" She calls and somehow I am surprised she knows her name. "A drink for my friend."

"Alright, hold ye horses!" She takes a tankard off the counter, running her apron around the inside in a gallant attempt to clean it. "What'll it be?"

"Mead." I answer immediately. Experience has taught me that even Dwarfs can't surprise me with the foulness of that drink.

Isabella's hand lands on my shoulder and she starts shaking her head. "No, not the mead. Never the mead." She turns back to Norah. "Three whiskeys." Hardly being in a position to argue with Isabella's knowledge I accept the drink and am only mildly astounded when she walks away leaving me to put down the thirteen bits to pay for them.

I take my seat with the two remaining glasses. "You never change, do you?"

"I praise the maker every day for such blessings." She says before taking a healthy swig of her drink. "Where's Leliana?"

Without looking around I know that she is covertly scouting the building and listening to snippets of conversation between the patrons, as is her custom and I have no wish for Isabella to draw attention to her before she has finished her ritual. So I only shrug. "She's around."

"I'd have put money on that." She casts a long look over my torso, the smirk never leaving her face.

"You'd put money on anything." I say taking a very tentative sip of the strong smelling whisky. It hits the back of my throat and burns all the way down to my belly. I have to fight to keep the tears from my eyes and hold my breath to stop myself from falling into a coughing fit. Next time I try the mead.

She smiles, throwing a vast amount of the evil burning liquid down her throat. "Only when I know I'm right." The smile already gracing her lips pulls tighter to show her teeth in a grin and her eyes lift to gaze above my head. "Red. We were just talking about you."

Familiar hands lands on each of my shoulders, a dangerous move for anyone but Leliana. "Isabella, what a pleasant surprise." Her nimble fingers grip at my shoulders to tell me her attention rests on me as she speaks. "All good things I hope."

"Always, my dear." I answer instinctively.

"Good." She drops her lips to my crown and swiftly drops into the seat next to me. "Here." She holds out a single iron key fro me to take. "Up the stairs, third door on the right."

Slowly I take the key from her grasp. Wondering when she could have had the time to procure a room I'm certain she had only be gone a moment. "You know me so well." One of these days someone will tell me when I became so transparent.

She shows me her teeth in a grin then turns from me, focusing her full attention on Isabella. "So what brings you to Kirkwall?"

I reach down for my forgotten pack and quietly leave the interaction. Both women notice my departure but neither comment. Instead Isabella simply keeps the grin pulled across her face and continues her banter with my companion. "Same thing that takes me anywhere Red. Wine, women and song."

Leliana throws her head back in a laugh. "I find at least one of those very hard to believe."

"If I remember rightly I didn't take much to make you sing."

I accent the stairs and let my ears tune out their conversation after hearing the embarrassed laugh from my life partner. My mind set onto only one thing and that is how quickly I can get out of these sea salt covered clothes. The straps holding the scabbards for my short swords to my back are already unbuckled and my hands are pulling them from my shoulders by the time I close the door behind me. They land in an unceremonious heap by the door and my nimble fingers set to work on the buckles for my leather armour.

In the far corner a steel basin of water has been set to heat over an open fire. As my eyes land on it I send silent thanks to the Creators and words of love to Leliana. After loosening the buckles and laces of the tight armour covering my chest I pull the confining garment ungracefully over my head and drop it to the floor on top of my weapons. The lose shirt is soon to follow.

Leaving the tight lengths of material binding my breasts to my body I quickly make my way to heating water, happy to see steam beginning to rise from it's surface. Cupping the liquid in my hand I bring it to my face the push my hands around my neck already beginning to feel relaxed under it's cleansing effects.

After retrieving a bar of soap from Leliana's possessions I set to work cleaning my arms, shoulders, neck and face. Hoping to remove at least most of the grime the waves have left behind after nearly a week at sea. I shake most of the excess water from my hands into the now brown water in the basin and reach of a towel to dry my skin.

I leave my thick leather trousers around my hips, tugging at the lasses so I can tuck a clean white shirt into the waistline, then snuff out the open flame and remove the dirty water from the room.

Feeling much lighter I descend the stirs to mingle once more in the crowed tavern, the insistent din no longer so annoying to my ears now my skin is clean.

From across the room I can see that the two have not moved and by the looks of it are still taking jibes at each other, though several more empty cups litter the table in front of Isabella. Another has joined the two, sat next to Leliana, with her back to me, her head swivelling from one to the other as each of them speaks. I don't need to get much closer to spy the newcomers pointed ears. A city elf. My steps halt and my jaw clenches. My mind flashing back to so many years ago, in an Alienage far south of here, even now I can still hear the ghost of their screams pressing against my ears.

I try to shake off the unhappy memories and divert my feet towards the bar to postpone my return to the table. Even though I make no effort to draw the attention of Norah she appears in front of me in an instant. It appears Isabella has more than a little influence over the staff in this establishment. "What'll it be?" She asks a warm smile pulled across her chubby features.

After my experience with the whisky and the warning I received about the mead I find myself at a loss. "What's good?"

She offers me a snort of laughter. "Ya be in the wrong place for that Pet." At the very least she's honest.

Her hummer lightens my mood and quickly distracts me from my sombre memories. I fold my arms and lean heavily on the counter, "Alright. Anything but dwaren ale."

"Right you are." she says pulling a black glass bottle from beneath the counter, so thickly covered in dust and cobwebs it makes me think she would just be glad to be rid of it. After running a cloth over the glass she rests it down on the counter top. "One piece."

I hand over the single silver coin and take the offered bottle of wine along with the wooden tankards she hands me. As I approach the table I begin to hear the conversation going on between the small group. just a Leliana begins to snigger. "You better not let her hear you say that."

"Hear her say what?" I ask, placing the wine bottle and the tankard onto the wooden table, making both women fall into silence, Leliana with her lips pulled into a satisfied smirk and Isabella almost topples over her drink before casting her wide eyes in my direction.

Leliana opens her mouth to speak but it beaten by Isabella as she stands from the table and attempt to halt any speech from my mate. "I may or may not have said anything."

I raise a single eyebrow and cannot for the life of me think of anything she could have said in jest that would have her fear me so. I draw breath to try and pry it out of the pirate but I am stopped by the tiniest of voices calling my name.

My eyes are drawn to Leliana, expecting her to have attempted to draw my attention away from the topic of discussion only to find her looking at the elf at her side, whom must have been the voice I heard. The realisation dawns on me that this elf knows my given name and is confident to use it in public. This fact draws my gaze to the small elf and the sight shocks me to the very core. Wise green eyes I truly never thought I would see again meet mine, holding my gaze a sucking the breath from my body. "Lyna?"

Tears spring to my eyes and I compose myself enough to drawn breath and swallow the growing lump in my throat. "Merrill?" She's much thinner and paler than I remember, but still Merrill. Still the young mage I lead down into the elven ruins, still the keepers chosen first. Still the tiny young girl my parents took in to raise as their own. Still the sister I wished for so long I had not left behind.

As I step around Leliana, Merrill stands from her seat and promptly falls against my chest, gripping the material of my shirt. Instinctively my arms clamp around her shoulders to hold her against my body. Silent sobs rack through her tiny frame, trying to speak to me in Dalish over the hitching of her breath.

My lips find her hair as they always used to and I mumble. "I missed you too."

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_A/N: In all honesty this was just a little price of randomness that I couldn't get out of my head. So I present it to you for inspection. I have absolutely no idea where this is going to go. So may just play through the game and pick up some quests to dramatise a little bit. Any requests, criticisms and comments are welcomed with open arms._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Streams of Dalish words string together so quickly, against my chest that I have no hope of comprehending them. The language was not something I paid much attention to in my formative years. There was always something more interesting to learn, how to string a bow or stalk a dear or pick a lock. Right in this moment though, here and now, would give up all such talents to understand what the small woman in my arms is saying to me through her tears.

Focusing more on the tone of her voice than the actual words she is uttering, I can do no more than to repeat the mantra of 'I missed you too.' Over and over again against her pitch-black hair, hoping to comfort her with the mantra. Tears I no longer thought I could shed, falling freely down my cheeks.

Without warning she sharply pushes against my chest and I find myself blinking away tears so I can see her more clearly. "I couldn't find you." She has finally composed herself enough to speak in a tongue I can understand. Her fingers find their way to my damp cheeks touching the skin so lightly, treating me like a find work of glass that could shatter if pressed to hard. "I searched."

My tongue takes on the weight of lead and I am struck dumb. My trembling jaw opening and closing uselessly as I search my mind for the words to put to the overwhelming emotions coiled in my chest. Just happy to hear her voice and see her smiling through her tears.

Hands land on my shoulders from behind and I do not have the awareness to know who's nor do I have the strength to strike out. Instead choosing to turn my head and find Leliana's kind blue eyes, filled with concern looking back at me. "I think you'd better sit down." Is all she says her gaze casting warily over the crowd.

Reaching up towards my face I take Merrill's hand in mine, needed the physical connection, frightened to break the illusion of her presence by letting her go.

Leliana leads me into her seat and Merrill reclaims her chair, at my side. Leliana takes the seat opposite me and I see her keeping her vigilante eyes on the patrons of the tavern. I will find time to thank her later for her attempt to keep our limited privacy and explain my extreme reaction to Merrill's presence but all I manage right now is to return my gaze to my sister.

"I never thought I'd see you again." The words leave my mouth without thought. "How long have you been in Kirkwall?"

"We took ship, shortly after fleeing the _Brazilian_ forest."

I laugh to myself; if they had the same reaction as I to being at sea I truly pity the pore captain that gave them passage. "You've been here the whole time?"

The Rivain interrupts our reunion across the table. "So I take it you two know each other."

We both look over to her just as Leliana gives her a sharp look, which is completely ignored by the smirking pirate.

"Merrill is my sister." I answer, being of no mind to fire any sort of witty retort.

"Oh." Leliana's reaction is immediate. "I thought..." She trails off, leaving me to finish her thought. There is little doubt she thought us to be old lovers. Merrill was a very skittish child, having been passed from one clan to another for her talents. As the older sibling, even if not by blood, I had taken it upon myself to calm her where I could. I learned very quickly that physical contact and acceptance were two things my young sister craved above all else. This all resulted in our expression of emotions to be more physical than verbal. I am aware, even if Merrill is not, that for an outsider looking in our innocent touches can be seen as something much more jaded. Even the clan at times did not see our interactions to be as pure as freshly fallen snow.

Thoughts of the clan bring my questioning eyes back to the dark haired mage still gripping tightly to my hand. "Where are the others?"

Both her bright smile and her gaze simultaneously fall. "They are camped on Sundermount." She answers simply.

I feel the lines of confusion crease across my forehead. "Then why are you in the city?"

"I left the clan." She states, the tempo of her speech increasing significantly with nerves. With great effort I stay silent, knowing that by her nature she will explain in her own time. "They didn't understand. They couldn't understand. You were gone and I was so... alone. I searched for you and they didn't understand. When I needed more power I found it and they didn't understand that either."

"How did you get more power?" I quietly ask almost dreading the answer.

"I..." She stops and pulls herself away from me. Her shoulders hunch over her tiny frame giving me the impression that she would love nothing more than to curl herself into a ball and rock herself to sleep. After fidgeting for a short time she lets her eyes meet mine, then reaches down to the lose green sleeve around her arm and pushes it up to her elbow.

The moment her flesh is bared to my sight I feel my whole being deflate. Ageing scars and freshly healing wounds cover her skin from wrist to elbow. "Oh Merrill."

"Please don't be angry with me." She says immediately.

Reaching out I take her exposed arm in my grasp, running my thumb gently along the one of the deepest longest scars. "What spell was this for?"

"You know what?" Isabella's voice reaches my ears once again from over the table. "I think there's... something. Over there, that I simply _must_ to stare at. Leliana?"

The bard catches on very quickly and even goes as far as to lean back in her seat and look over to where the pirate is pointing. "That does look interesting."

"It does, doesn't it. So we'll just... go over there and..." Isabella's sentence is never finished and she hastily rises from her seat, takes two steps before retracing them to revive her drink. As quick as a flash they are both gone leaving us the illusion of privacy in such a public place.

"Isabella is nice. Isn't she?" Merrill says, trying to defect me from my line of questioning.

"Very." I answer, knowing that this will move along much quicker if I acknowledge her subject change before dragging her back. "What spell did you cast for this scar?" The pad of my thumb runs along the raised flesh a second time.

"The Eluvian. It needed to be cleansed to find you." Strange how such softly spoken words can make me feel like I've been stampeded by a heard of rushing Halla.

"The Eluvian?" I did this. I caused this with my own stupidity, my own near-sightedness. If I had just stood my ground and not allowed Tamlen to pull me down into those stupid ruins. I would never have found that fucking mirror then I wouldn't have had to leave the clan in the first place. "You're angry." She says, her face pulled into a worried frown.

I had not realised that my grip on her arm had tightened to such a degree when my temper had flared and I reach out with my other hand, intending to stroke at her cheek to calm her nerves.

Without warning, it feels like a clamp is bearing down on my wrist and I am yanked away from the mage at my side. Swivelled in my seat and pushed back, so the small of my back pushes painfully against the edge of the table. Cold steel touches my throat and I find myself staring into cold, cobalt blue eyes filled with pure rage. Is it just impossible for me to walk into a bar without getting into a fight? "By the Maker who are you?" The mysterious human woman bearing down on me practically growls through gritted teeth.

Adrenalin rushes through my body as I look along the blade of the longsword held in the grasp of my attacker. With this timely distraction I am able to push down my raging emotions from only a moment ago. Letting a smile play on my lips. "You are truly courageous against an unarmed opponent."

The human above me if quickly forced to tilt her head to the side. Leliana's blade pushes against her skin as it slides through her shoulder length black hair and beneath her ear to rest against the artery in her neck.

"You're timing is impeccable my dear." I say, felling the steel move with my words against my throat.

Leliana's laugh reaches my ears a moment later. "I am almost insulted that you expected anything less." Though her body is still filled with tension laughter laces through her words.

"Stop it, all of you." Merrill's panicked voice hits my ears and even after so many years in her company she can be somewhat unpredictable.

I hold out my hand flat in a universal sigh for her to stop. "No Merrill." My careful jesting with Leliana left behind as I address my sister, pushing urgency into my voice to keep her at bay. Where Leliana in a situation such as this I can predict, she will remain calm and focused. True to her bardic training. Keeping me safe even when this situation appears so treating. Merrill will not. She will panic and with a razor sharp blade pressed so deeply into my skin one wrong move will have me redecorating these dreary walls with my own blood until I have no more left to give.

The human holding me captive suddenly looks very confused. "You're an elf."

"Was it the ears that gave it away?" I ask, my voice changing again, sarcasm dripping from my words.

Unhindered by the blade at her neck she turns towards Merrill. "Are you okay?" Now that is interesting, she barely flinched when Leliana's cold steel touched her neck. The threat against her own life secondary to Merrill's well being. This realisation halts my biting words at the very tip of my tongue.

"I'm perfectly fine Hawke." Heading my warning Merrill stays back as she speaks. Gesturing with her rapid hand movements that she would very much wish to physically separate the two of us. "If you could just..." There's something in the mage's voice, in the way she neither commands nor pleads with this human. There's something I'm missing, something really big. I'm usually good at this stuff.

The human's eyes travel from me to Merrill and back again for a few moments. "What's going on?" Her grip on her sword falters, the change is small but I notice it, the tip of the blade pulling less than an inch from my skin. "There's something I'm missing, isn't there?" At the very least I can take pleasure in the fact that I am not the only one.

"Lyna is my sister."

Those little words are all it takes, almost immediately the tip of the blade drops from it's threatening position to rest on the floor. After a few seconds Leliana's knife is also removed and Hawke's hand travels under her ear to inspect for any damage. "You have a sister?" Hawke asks.

"Not by blood." She says, for some reason needing to clarify that fact. "But close enough."

The muscles in Hawke's jaw twitch under the skin as they tense. "I see." The frown pulling her eyebrows down to hood over her eyes, contradicting her words.

Adjusting my back so it no longer presses against the table at such an uncomfortable angle and resting my elbows against its surface, I lean back to observe the interaction between the two. Merrill's hand closes over Hawke's, which is still gripping the hilt of her sword. Her grasp loosens and Merrill takes the blade from her hand to hold it loosely between her fingers. It suddenly dawns on me what is happening and I have to restrain myself from slapping my palm against my forehead at my own stupidity. However I am unable to stop my jaw from going slack and the small exclamation of 'Oh.' from passing through my lips. By the Dread Wolf I'm blind sometimes.

"Oh?" Merrill imitates in question.

"Yeah 'oh'." I say reaching over to Leliana to retrieve a blade hidden at her hip. Merrill's familiarity with the human makes me feel safe enough to turn my back on her swivelling in my seat to face the table. I take up the almost forgotten bottle of wine and run the sharp edge of the small knife through the thick wax covering the cork. It peals off in one long strip, which I swiftly drop to the table before pushing the tip of the knife into the cork and begin to work it from the neck of the bottle.

Leliana take a seat opposite me. I am unsure if she knows there is no longer any need for privacy between Merrill and myself or is she is worried that the tall warrior will attack again. Either way I am grateful for her presence. She rests her elbow against the table and covers her mouth with her curled hand; to hide the smile I can see shining in her eyes. Clearly she had judged the exact nature of the relationship between Merrill and Hawke much sooner than I had.

After a cautions look over Leliana, Hawke un-straps the shield at her back and rest it against the table before sitting by Leliana's Side. Chewing nervously on her bottom lip. Merrill sits down at my side again and I can feel her eyes on me. "Just 'oh'?'" She asks caution laced through her voice.

"I was going to leave it there." The cork pulls free of its confinement and I smile in triumph. Then frown when I have no further distraction from this conversation. Casting one more glance over to Hawke, I try to get some sort of read on her, frustrated when I can't get one. Not many would brave sitting next to my beloved, moments after being threatened by her. "So..." I start pouring the liquid into the tankard and placing it down in front of Hawke, relishing the surprise on her face. Then swiftly turning to Merrill. "When did you grow up?"

"Not that long ago." She replies. "You're not angry?"

"Me?" I scoff, taking up one of Isabella's spent tumblers and pouring another drink into it. "You were the one always fixated on Elven Lore." I place the wooden container in front of Leliana, knowing Merrill will understand the action. "I thought you were going to be angry with me."

Merrill only smiles at me then turns in her seat to cast her wide green eyes around the room. "I wonder what Isabella could be looking at." She turns back and directs her question towards the bard sitting across from me. "It must be very intriguing... I'm sorry I don't remember your name."

Leliana's eyebrows rise slightly at Merrill, her eyes swivelling in their sockets to my smiling face. Confirming to her that, yes, Merrill can be that oblivious at times. "Leliana and it was..." She pauses, choosing her words carefully. "... Indeed a pleasure to look at." She finally says with a grin.

I know that with me in a pubic place and in such an emotional state her eyes would not have left my vulnerable back. Her swift intervention a few moments ago to quell my confrontation with Hawke is enough evidence of that. "Flirt." I accuse quietly, placing a drink before my sister before finally pouring one for myself.

"The Leliana?" The warrior takes this moment to speak. "Companion of the Hero of..." Very slowly I watch as comprehension falls across her face. "Oh." Her eyes open as wide as saucers and I have to brace myself for when I know is to come. "By the Maker I'm so sorry."

"Please don't call me that." I say sharply, taking a long pull on the wine in my glass. "My name is Lyna."

"But you're the Hero of Ferelden." She's just not getting this is she? "You quelled the blight and saved thousands of lives."

I feel my teeth grind painfully for a moment before Leliana steps in, placing her hand over Hawke's forearm, which is resting on the table, to attract her attention. "Hawke. Please don't start a fight over this."

"I don't understand." Hawke says, stating the obvious. The way her eyes dart from Leliana to me and back again is enough to prove her confusion. "Do you just not want to be recognised?"

Taking a deep breath I try not to let her words get under my skin. "I coerced my best friend, to give his virginity to a possibly evil, defiantly manipulative apostate, whom he could not stand the sight of. Which may or may not have spawned the source of all evil. Just to save my own skin." I take a pause, only to try and push the painful memories to the back of my mind. "Does that sound heroic to you?"

"Not exactly." She says nodding her head; presumably at some point understanding must have washed over her. "Not when you put it like that."

"No." I say, getting tiered of having to recount my mistake to everyone who enters my life. Thankful on this occasion that I am only required to divulge on of the horrendous decisions I made throughout the blight. "Didn't feel very heroic at the time either." I go to take a drink only to find my cup empty. "So you can call me Lyna, Mahariel, Warden. Knife ears. Or even 'Oi stop steeling that lamp.' Just not hero. It's not me." reaching across the table I take up the half empty bottle and pour myself another generous helping of wine. "Sorry to disappoint you."

I can see questioning glances exchanged around the table, trying and failing to be inconspicuous. No matter how many minstrels tell the story of the last blight no one ever hears the truth of why both Alistair and myself survived that final battle. They make up some such nonsense of how we lived through shear force of will or loyalty. Or they simply forget to mention, the fate of a Grey Warden when they deal the final blow to an Archdemon.

"How could an apostate with child, prevent your own death?" Hawke asks, after a few moments of blissful quiet.

Under the table, the sound of clattering metal is so loud it silences all around us and Hawke's cry of 'Ow!' as she reaches under the able to run her hand over her injured shin, has me tuning my head in Merrill's direction. Who is currently wearing the most innocent expression she can muster, under the circumstances, keeping her sights set on Hawke. "You were being oblivious." She says by way of explanation.

After a few seconds of stunned silence I burst into uncontrollable laughter, which racks my body so violently I drop off my seat onto the sticky floor.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N **I may have broken some of my own rules here. I dislike switching between characters, particularly within the same chapter but I really wanted to be able to explore Merrill and Hawke's relationship and it would have just been weird to have tried to do that from Lyna's POV. There are just some things that I sister should just not see.

I am going to take this opportunity to apologise for the delay in the update but Skyrim came out. You all play RPG's you understand.

Anyway on with the show. Please enjoy the read and review!

**Chapter 3**

**Warden's POV**

Hours later I drag my warn and tiered body through the doorway into our lodgings, rolling my shoulders to try and work out the stiffness, which comes hand in hand with a week of inactivity. The door shuts with a quiet click behind me and the lock slides into place only moments before Leliana embraces me from behind, her hands sliding over the small incline of my hip to rest against my belly. Her lips find the column of my neck, and then her breath glides sensuously along my sensitive ear as she speaks. "I'm so proud of you."

My eyes slide closed and a pleasant shiver runs the length of my spine. "What's that for?"

"Well, there was a bar." She starts, placing those talented lips against the hollow behind my ear, breathing through her nose, forcing her breath to cascade across my skin and my own to hitch in arousal. "Alcohol." Her fingers bunch in my shirt pulling the hem from the waist of my leather trousers. "A room full of humans, in various stages of intoxication and you managed to only get into one fight." The tips of her fingers dip under my shirt to run lightly across my bare flesh. "You're beginning to mellow."

I smile at both her touch and lightly teasing voice. "Is that your way of telling me I'm getting old?" I ask, tilting my head to the side as she trials light kisses to the crock of my neck. She makes a small noise of agreement in the back of her throat and her nimble fingers pull at the knot in the lasses for my trousers. Not quite ready to give into her brazen seduction just yet I pull her fingers from their task and twist myself out of her embrace. "You think I'm getting old?"

Her hands fall to her side and I run my gaze up to her smirking features. "We are all advancing in years _mon cher_." She says advancing on me a step.

I take a step back and hold out my hands in a way that I hope will stop the advancing panther I now find in the small room with me. "Oh no. Those fancy Orlesian words are not going to work this time."

She raises a single eyebrow at me, her eyes beginning to twinkle with mischief. "_Oh vraiment? Nous devrons voir juste de cela._"

The silky words wash over me, I may know little more than how to curse in Orlesian but the mysterious language, even after all of these years puts the hairs along the back of my neck on end with excitement. "You shouldn't tempt an old shrew in such a manor."

She takes another step towards me, reaching out to lase her fingers with mine to stop any further retreat. "If you would stop resisting, I would not feel the need to seduce you."

"Good point." I say as she pulls me closer by out clasped fingers. Her free hand lands on my hip, lightly guiding them to press against her own.

Leaning down she presses her lips against mine, the sharp tip of her tongue, instantly pressing against my lower lip. On instinct my mouth falls open to accept the intrusive organ and a deep moan rumbles at the back of my throat. She guides my hand to rest against her side before threading her fingers through my hair, brushing the tip of my ear as she passes, her palm presses against the back of my head drawing me in and closer to her intoxicating sent.

She pulls back, her breath heaving and her blue eyes darkened with lust run along my features. Her hands to my displeasure leave my body and reach up to her shoulder to unbuckled her light armour. "We have been aboard a vessel for over a week. Seven passes of the sun. Aboard which, I have little chance of your affections." The buckle comes lose and her dexterous fingers pass to there other side. "Will you really deny me this night?" The second buckle loosens and the chest plate falls to the floor, pooling at her feet. Only the long strips of cotton wound around her breasts and her underclothes remain.

My tongue runs out along my parched lips. Already we both know that she will have her way. How is any warm-blooded creature to deny such a beautiful woman anything she should desire, when she is in such a state of undress? "Well." I say, lowering my gaze and giving my full attention to the knot in the martial, which is keeping her skin from my gaze. I bring my thin fingers up to work it open having to resist the temptation to tear it to pieces. "When you put it like that." Swiftly I have the martial untied and slowly unravel it around her body, revealing her scared skin to my eyes, inch by agonising inch. "How can I possibly refuse?"

During the long nights as we fought the blight, finding comfort in each other arms. The darkness of the wilderness and the thick canopy of our tent hid her body from my view. To this day I thank the Creators for that. Had I been permitted to lay eyes on the mangled flesh covering her torso before I has fallen so deeply in love with the woman before me I am unsure if I would have been able to hide my disgust. I may never have felt the simple joy of waking up surrounded in her warmth, nor reaped the benefits of her ferociously protective nature.

During the time she spent imprisoned in Orals almost every inch of her skin had been burned, slashed or whipped, the scars left behind have no distinguishable pattern, if you are to exclude the word _'Traître' _meticulously caved into the flesh at her hip. I had felt them many times beneath my touch and she had told me of the torture she endured at the hands of her guards. Though nothing could have prepared me for the sight of them that first time in the low, flickering candlelight at Redcliff, as she hesitantly bared her skin to my gaze.

Since then I have spent many nights tracing those old wounds. Learning their story's as and when she is willing to tell them, slowly finding that many of her wounds run far deeper than mere flesh. I have sworn many times to every God I could call on by name, that in either this life or the next, I will have my pound of flesh for every moment of pain my beloved endured at the hands of her kinsmen.

"You are completely overdressed for the occasion." Leliana's voice rings through my ears dragging me from my murderous inner musings and into the present. The material around her torso drops to the floor at her feet and I drag my eyes upwards to meet hers, only to find her smiling. I feel her fingers tugging the ties at the neck of my shirt and lift my arms so she is able to completely remove it.

In mere moments her practised fingers have me completely disrobed. Using her confident steps and the mischievous gleam in her eyes she forces me to retreat backwards until the backs of my knees press against the side of the straw mattress. She leans down to cover our difference in height, pressing her lips tightly against mine, her arms snaking their way around my hips.

When she releases me from our kiss my breath is already shaky and ragged, the almost dangerous smile on her face doing nothing to help control my erratic heartbeat. She leans down again, veering her head off to the side before she can brush against my lips, whispering against my ear. "_C'est beaucoup mieu._"

The exotic sound of her words flow over me, as she knew they would, forcing a shiver down my spine and a groan from my throat. "That's just cheating."

"I know." She says resting her fingertips against my breastbone and pushing me backwards onto the bed. She soon follows me crawling over my prone body to nip and kiss along my throat.

Sometimes. Coming out on top isn't everything.

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**Hawks POV**

Walking slowly down the streets of Lowtown at night is never a very safe thing to do. With so many blind corners and dark allies you never know what might come out at you. When you add a very animated Elf, who is perpetually oblivious to the dangers around her, into the equation your life expectancy sinks like a stone in the lake.

I'm a soldier and I've lived in Kirkwall for long enough to know that her fast, almost incomprehensible speech makes her stand out like a beacon against the quiet night. Calling out to all the lowlifes this city has to offer, to come and slit the throats of the two woman walking down the darkened streets without enough sense to pay attention to their surroundings.

When all I do is smile and nod in her direction. Ignoring my training and betraying my instincts. That's when I know how deeply I have fallen for the tiny elven woman walking next to me with her small hand engulfed in my plated armour. I've never seen her so exited. So happy. Nothing in me has the strength to try and stop the ramblings that bring her so much pleasure.

Instead I turn my eyes to the street, hoping to visibly identify any threats before they can pose a problem.

"... Do you not think _Ma Vhenan_?" I am only half listening to Merrill's insistent chatter so I am unable to stop myself tuning my head to her sharply, with a shocked look on my face when I hear this term of endearment she has adopted for me.

For a few moments I feel like a fish out of water, going to speak only to stop myself before I can draw sufficient breath. "Urm..." I start, chancing a short glance in her direction, hoping that just maybe she might give some visual indication as to how she wants me to respond. Upon receiving none I opt for the first thing that comes to mind. "Yes?" I had intended for my words to sound like a response not a question and failed miserable.

"You're not listening are you?" She says in a lightly teasing manor.

"No." I say, after a long pause. Shooting my gaze behind us before removing my attention from our surroundings for a moment. "I'm sorry Merrill. I'm just..."

She waves a hand in dismissal. "I know. I'm rambling again aren't I?"

"A little." I say, hearing the smile in my voice. She lapses into silence, appearing to be completely unaware of how endearing her rambling can be. I return my attention of our surroundings, feeling that I may have given the thugs of Kirkwall more that enough opportunity to jump me for one night.

I know that it will not be long before she begins to speak again. She appears to be completely unable to keep a thought in her head without voicing it much of the time. Over the past weeks, since she came to my estate I have often wondered if it had been her absolute honesty that draws me to her, after a lifetime of lies, secrets and hiding from the Templars. It's refreshing to say the least.

Her hand begins to fidget in mine, telling me that she is stopping herself from speaking and is having a hard time accomplishing it. It is a pattern we have fallen into, my waiting for her to tell me what is on her mind and her prying my thoughts from me with gentle prodding. "When will you ask me?"

Another part of this Elven beauty I am begging to get used to. Even though I know the exact moment she sill strike up a conversation I am always surprised by what she says. "Ask you what?"

Her footing changes direction, her muscle memory taking her back to the Alienage and I have to tighten my grip on her tiny hand to lead her in the direction of high town. We are both well used to the movement and after a moment of confusion she realises I am leading her to her home and on this occasion does not feel the need to comment. "Why I never mention Lyna."

"Oh that." I say climbing the stone steps and feeling my stance relax slightly as we enter the relative safety of Hightown. "I figured you'd tell me when you were ready."

I don't have to look round to know her eyes are on me. Studying me in that intense way she does whenever she doesn't understand my actions. "But..." she says hesitantly and the tone of her voice makes me turn to look at her. "You do want to know?"

"Of course I do." I pass her hand from one of my palms to the other, drawing her tightly against my breastplate so I am able to rest my arm across her shoulders. "She was once a very big aspect of your life. It's curious that you didn't bring her up but I'm sure you had good reason."

"You are crazy sometimes Hawke." She says.

"I know." Reluctantly I extract myself from our awkward embrace so reach into my pouch for the key to the door, as we begin to approach the estate.

Over the last few feet to the front door she falls back into silence, her face thoughtful as we climb the four stone steps and I push the key into the lock. "It's just..." I turn as she pauses, watching as she tries to order the words in her mind. It is a rare moment when my little elf takes a moment to think about what she wants to say and I immediately leap to the conclusion that it is important to her. So my hand stills on the iron key and I give her my full attention. "I didn't want you to think I was broken."

"Broken?" I feel my forehead crease in confusion. Giving myself pause to mull over the word. I turn the key in the lock and push the door open. Holding it wide to grant her entrance ahead of me, her head turning to watch my reaction as she passes me by. After stepping through the threshold and closing the door behind us I continue. "Do you think you're broken?"

Her eyes drop to the floor and her hand comes up to push her short hair behind her pointed ear. "The keeper once said. When Lyna left, that it broke me, in some ways. I don't think I ever fully understood what she meant."

My eyebrow rises of it's own violation. "The more I hear about this keeper of yours the less I like her." My gaze drops to my steel gauntlets and I attempt to pull the buckles lose, the heavy plating around my fingers as always proving to be a nuisance in the task. Merrill's hands very quickly cover mine to move them out of the way and removing my distraction in the process.

More years ago than I care to remember in the war with Orlais I saw men truly broken by what they had seen or endured. Driven mad by the organised chaos of war. "Broken isn't the word I would use. Lonely maybe but not broken."

With her bare hands she is able to unfasten my gauntlets and pulls from my hands before I am finished, placing them neatly on the table by the door. "How is that I person can be broken?"

One side of my mouth lifts in a better sweet smile, lost for only a moment in the screams and useless ramblings of those men. "Pray to your Creators that you never find out."

Just as she is opening her mouth to speak a third voice enters the conversation. "Good evening Messere. I trust all is well."

"Bodahn, you should be in bed." I chastise lightly, happy that I no longer have to follow this line of questioning, some memories are just better left buried.

"Nonsense." He says with a dismissive wave of his hand. "What if you or Miss Merrill had returned hungry?"

His constant attentiveness is unsettling at best. I am used to being independent and I would much prefer if he were to spend more time attending to Mother's needs than my own. "I've cooked for myself for over twenty five summers. One more night wont hurt."

His moustache twitches in amusement. "That as may be but has our young miss here ever sampled your cooking?"

I try my best to look dangerous, which is difficult with a smile plastered across my face. "Good night Bodahn."

He has already begun climbing the staircase as he calls back. "Good night Messere."

I shake my head at the small cheeky dwarf and wonder not for the first time, why I let him get away with such comments. A long yawn at my side makes me forget all about my manservant's behaviour and my eyes are drawn to the tiered eyes of my beloved elf. "I think it's time you were in bed too." I say gently.

"I think you might be right. It's been a long day." Her eyes half closed turn towards me. "Will you be long?"

"I hope not." I reply drawing her closer to place a lingering kiss against her forehead and turning her in the direction of the stairs.

I catch myself watching her as she ascends the stairs and shake the less than pure thoughts from my mind. After reminding myself that Merrill is tiered I quickly leave the foyer and escape into the seclusion of the drawing room before my over active libido can dictate my actions.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 3

**Hawks POV**

Countless days of being woken by the army bulge has permanently rendered me unable to sleep past the steady sunrise. I sigh against the frustrating habit and my restless eyes crack open to welcome a new day only to be greeted by the jet-black hair of the elven woman in my bed. My arm around her tightens slightly in a silent greeting as not to wake her and I push my head heavily against the soft pillows, closing my eyes. Already knowing that any attempt at further rest would be fruitless but unwilling to leave the comfort of this warm inviting bed.

My hand gently reaches beneath Merrill's sleeping attire and I grant myself the pleasure of running my thumb across the smooth skin along her belly. She murmurs in her sleep and shifts her weight deeper into my embrace. Pulling a deep breath through my nostrils I take in her earthy sent and try to will my limbs to relax and allow me to slumber, frustrated to find that they are unwilling to and have begun to ache with inactivity.

With another deep sigh I rise from the bed, running my hand along my face and over my neck before stretching out my back. I reach for my robe and throw one last longing glace and the sleeping woman before throwing it around my shoulders and leaving the large bedroom.

Upon descending the ornate stairs into the foyer I spot a pile of unopened letters stacked on the table close to the door and have to physically restrain myself from throwing the blasted things straight into the fire already burning brightly in the heath. Bodahn and Sandal are both used to my morning rituals and in the colder months always ensure that I wake to a warm room. I drop my letters down onto the plush chair angled to face to fire and rest my forearm against the mantel to gently gaze into the crackling flames. Smiling at how well the people of this household have come to know me.

They know that in the quieter hours of the morning I much prefer the foyer to my study. Liking to watch the house slowly some alive around me. Enjoying the light conversation such a position can provoke with the inhabitancies of the house as the come and go as they please.

Forlornly I turn my attention to the letters again. Lifting them from the seat so I can settle into it and leafing through them to find several marked for my urgent attention. Upon spaying Athenril's neat script scribed across one of the envelopes I throw the letter deep into the flames before even breaking the thick wax seal. I had a belly full of that conniving elf my first year in the city and I'll be dammed is I let her drag me into that web of deceit again.

A seal bearing the mark of the guard captain across a blank envelope catches my attention and causes me to frown. Unsure as to why Aveline would not come to request my aid in person I break the wax to find the words. 'I need your help.' Written in block capitals across the centre of the page. Even more confused I turn the page over hoping she might have given more detail somewhere else on the page. It appears that she hasn't even taken the time to sigh her name and I set the strange note to one side, promising myself that I will visit my old friend at some point today.

The words scribbled across the next of my letters is in the looped script of Hubert and I close my eyes in frustration, wishing that I have never accepted his offer for part ownership of The Bone Pit. The only time the man feels the need to contact me directly is when something has crawled out of the woodwork at the creepy mine. Usually some superstition passed around among the workers has them all running scared and they will not return to work until I have personally decaled the blasted place safe.

"Morning Marian."

I smile at the voice, more than glad of the interruption. "Morning Mother." I set the letters aside as she approaches and drops into the seat opposite. I turn to give her my full attention.

"Is Merrill still sleeping?" She asks.

I find myself smiling at the question. Not so long ago the only conversation I could have with my mother centred around which nobleman I hoped would ask for my hand in marriage. Her eyes would light up as she talked endlessly of the men she had met since I brought this estate. She took my silence as vague interest and would not let the matter drop. I didn't have the courage to tell her that my heart already resided deep in the squalor of Lowtown, nestled deep within the Alienage.

The morning after Merrill first came to the estate in search of me she walked down into the foyer to find Mother and myself, engaged in conversation. She turned beat red from the base of her neck right to the tips of her pointed ears, as my Mother's eyes looked upon her in shock then very quickly disappeared up the stairs.

From that day all talk of noblemen and marriage were completely forgotten. My Mother either totally giving up on the notion or seeing the happiness the small elven mage provoked in me saw no need to press the matter further.

"Yes." I answer turning my gaze to the flames in the heath, the events of last night filtering into my thoughts. We sit in silence of a few moments and I can feel her eyes on me. Questioning my silent thoughts. "Did father ever meet your family?" I finally ask drawing my eyes to her features.

Her forehead is heavily creased and she leans back in the high backed chair. "What makes you ask that dear?"

"I…" Lead hits my tongue as it so often does, stilling my words behind my teeth. I know I need the advice that only a parent can bestow but lack the courage to ask for it. "I met Merrill's sister last night."

Her eyebrows rise high in surprise. "I didn't even know she had a sister." She comments.

"Neither did I." I admit slowly. Conveniently leaving out that the woman in question happens to be the Hero of Ferelden. "I may have threatened her."

My mother's giggles were anticipated but I still glare at her for being unwilling to hide her amusement. "You always did know how to make a first impression."

"That's not helping mother." The small whine in my voice throws her into another fit of laughter and I roll my eyes, waiting for her to be able to control herself, when she has I continue on my line of questioning. "What if she doesn't approve of me?"

"Merrill loves you Marian." My mother states simply, holding my gaze and looking like that small statement will hold the answers to all of my questions.

I swallow audibly unable to quench my fears. "Is that why you left with father?" She nods slowly, her eyes glazing over as she losses herself to her memories. I am loath to drag her from such pleasant times but my pressing worries drive me forward. "Is that the only reason?"

She takes a moment to consider this question. "I was young and rebellious and my parents didn't approve which only made your father all the more appealing. I ran away with him to spite my parents. I stayed in Ferelden because I feel so deeply in love with him."

"Oh." I say not really certain if her answer confounds the issue further or not. "So what do I do?" I finally ask.

"Nothing." She sees my jaw clench at her response and quickly continues. "You'll just have to trust Merrill. If she loves you like I know she does, her sibling will not be able to stand in the way of that." She looks to the window to gaze at the sun climbing rapidly in the sky and stands.

I look up at her, feeling like a child clutching at her apron strings. "Are you sure?"

She smiles down at me, taking the time to run her hand along my cheek to bring me comfort. "Nothing is certain in love or war my dear. Worrying over it will not change that." Her comforting hand lands against my cheek and she drops a single kiss onto the top of my head as she passes.

The small exchange leaves me in a more confused state then when I started and I give a long sigh before opening the letter from Hubert, only for six pages to fall onto my lap. I can't help but wish he had he had the same notion as Aveline.

Resting my forehead heavily in the palm of my hand I set about reading through the looped writing. By the fifth page I have the gist of what the man is trying to say but have to restrain myself from heading down to the market to wring her neck myself, for wasting my time on all the trivial matters he has brought up before making his point.

The murderous impulses rushing through me are quickly quenched when I hear movement on the stairs. Merrill is slowly making her way down, dressed in another of my red robes. The garment much to big for her and the martial appears to swallow her whole, running along her body and almost dragging along the floor. She has one of the sleeves bunched up around her elbow as she sleepily rubs her fist against her right eye.

The smile pulls across my face of its own violation and I set the letters down on the arm of the chair so I can give her my full attention. "Good morning."

She narrows her tiered eyes at me as she reaches the ground floor, lowering her arm so the sleeve of the robe falls towards the floor swallowing her tiny hand in one smooth motion. "Almost."

"If you're so tiered, why are you out of bed?"

A hint of a blush stains her cheeks and the tips of her pointed ears as she tries to shrug innocently. "It was cold."

"Well we can't have that." I say extending my hand out to her. "Come and rest by the fire."

The smile that pulls along her face twinkles amongst her bright green eyes and she takes my invitation, entwining her fingers with my own before folding herself in such a way that she is able to curl up on my lap, leaning her side against my chest. She rests her temple against my colour bone and sighs as my arms reach around to encircle her.

It never ceases to amaze me how much such simple contact can relax the elf in my arms. I feel the ghost of her eyelashes against my skin as she closes her eyes and the tension leaves her body. Her nose pushes against my neck to nuzzle against me and her muscles twitch as she makes herself comfortable.

I smile at the adorable action and reach to the arm of my chair to retrieve the letter from Hubert, resting my cheek against her forehead I continue to try and decipher the loops script written across the page. I barely manage two lines before her hand sweeps into my vision to run along my creased forehead. "You're thinking dark thoughts."

"A little." I admit, still distracted by the words on the paper in front of me. Still trying to come up with as many ways as I can to throttle Hubert so he can at the very least keep his messages short and to the point.

Her wandering hand drops to my shoulder and her gentle fingers graze along my collarbone as a subtle, very pleasant indication as to her intentions. "Come back to bed and we can chase them away."

My eyes close and I force myself to resist the temptation, taking Merrill to my bed has very quickly become one of my most favoured habits and on any other morning I would leap at the offer. "I would love to." Her fingers halt in their gentle ministrations as she senses contrition in my words. "I have to go down to The Bone Pit." I feel her eyelashes against my skin as her eyes open to look up at me. "Some nonsense about the walking dead." I sigh dropping the pages to the floor at my feet.

"Well, that sounds very serious." She says in the thoughtful voice. In a flurry of movement she extracts herself from my arms and is on her feat, pulling the large robe tighter around her shoulders as she heads towards the stairs. "We should leave right away." Still left in my seat with my lap noticeably cold without her body heat to warm it I blink up at her. I hadn't even thought she would want to accompany me to the mine. "We should probably ask Isabella to come. I do so like to hear her dirty stories and they get worse when she's looting dead bodies." I stand from my seat and silently follow the talkative elf up the stairs and into the master bedroom. "If they are already the waking dead and we kill them, their dead twice. So does that mean there is twice as much looting to be done?" She gets to the centre of the room before tuning to me. "I'm rambling again, aren't I?"

All I can do is smile and take her cheeks in each of my hand to draw her up for a chaste kiss against her lips. Before silently resting my forehead against hers, refreshed once again by her putting voice to all of her inner musings. My thumbs run once across her skin and I begrudgingly remove myself from her so I am able to dress.

Her eyes follow me around the room. "You do puzzle me sometimes."

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We enter The Hanged Man close to mid morning and I am more than a little surprised to find Isabella both out of bed and coherent at this time. She smiles at us and waves us over, then returns her attention to the cards in her hand. Across the table from her sits Lyna her four circular cars pushed into a neat pile and placed face down on the table in front of her. Her hands weaving an intricate dance as she speaks seemingly lost in whatever tail she is spinning. "… I thought they were either crazy or joking but no, we climb out of the caves onto this plateau and there _swooping_ above our heads is a high dragon. Not your little Draginlings that you usually come across. This thing is at least as tall as ten houses. And I've just been speaking to a bunch of nut jobs that genuinely believed to be the reincarnation of Andraste's herself."

Isabella eyes lift from her cards and she shoot the energetic elf a disbelieving look. "A dragon?"

"I swear by the Dread Wolf." We come closer to the pair and I let my grip on Merrill's hand go lax, trying to ignore the questioning look in her eyes as I do so. "Somehow these maniacs had got some blood from the thing and suddenly really I'm glad I didn't pick a fight." Isabella nods with her eyebrows raised up high to show her disbelief at the story, pushing a single card away from her and reaching for the pile to take another. Without waning Lyna's hand covers Isabella's wrist and turns it so her palm faces the ceiling, revelling the card tucked into the tunic at the sleeve. The warden pulls the small card from its confines and holds it between her thumb and forefinger. "Come on Isabella. How am I supposed to count cards if you keep cuffing them?" 

Isabella's response is to laugh. "You want me to help you cheat?"

"I'm just saying. A little consideration would be nice."

Upon reaching the table Merrill immediately goes behind her sister and wraps her arms around her neck in a friendly embrace. An innocent gesture of closeness that I can see could easily turn into a blood bath. Every muscle in the rouge elf tenses, ready to strike and I am already reaching for the blade at my hip as her hands rise to cover Merrill's arms. My defensiveness is ill founded, as somehow Lyna has been able to detect the identity of her would be assailant and mealy rests her hands along Merrill's forearms in greeting. The entire action happens far to fast for Merrill to even notice the change in her sister, though I do profess my love of her infinite innocence, sometimes when she puts herself such in danger, even accidentally it makes by blood run cold.

Lyna give a short sigh and doesn't comment on the interaction. "Morning Merrill." She says turning her head to run her eyes over me in such a way I feel the need to cross my arms over my chest. One of her eyebrow dips as she apprises me. "Morning Hawke." She says slowly giving me the distinct impression she is trying to read my thoughts.

"Who's winning?" Merrill asks completely oblivious to the tension between the warden and myself.

"She is." Isabella says with a sneer, snatching her tankard of whisky from the table. She looks once more at her cards before throwing them on top of the pile of coins in the centre of the table. "When did you get so good at this?"

Lyna shrugs reaching out to claim the pot. "I had a good teacher." A strange look passes between the pirate and warden for a moment. A silent exchange that I am not privy to and a quick as it appeared it is gone.

I make my way around the table and lower myself into the seat beside Isabella, watching Merrill, who still has her arms crossed around her sister's neck, a confused expression colouring her face. "If you're both cheating is it still a game?"

"Cheating is the game Kitten." Isabella says, her eyes watching Lyna's hands closely as she shuffles the deck. "Isn't it a bit early for you to be drinking Hawke?"

"We came to see you." I answer, casting a glance at the drink still clutched in her hand, wondering how she could possibly be still standing in the evening if this is how early she starts drinking.

"Ah. That means someone's in peril and you can't help but save them." She throws the liquid to the back of her throat and places the tankard back down onto the table. "What is it this time? Noblewoman lost her son? Mabari Puppy stuck up a tree?" 

Although I'm pretty certain Mabaris can't climb trees I hold my tongue on the matter. "Walking dead at The Bone Pit."

"Again?" She asks, accepting another hand from the elf across the table. "Just those lazy miners wanting a day off."

I nod in agreement, there have been so many scares down at the mine it is difficult to take the men at their word. Lyna fans her cards out in front of her and scans her eyes over them, her face unchanging, as she looks them over. Her Wicked Grace face is a force to be reckoned with. Unfortunately Merrill is looking over her shoulder. "I can never remember. Is having all the shield cards good?"

Without missing a beat Isabella is there. "Fold."

"Just like old times." Lyna says takeing the two bits from the centre of the table. "I take it you three will be going off to this mine then."

Merrill unhooks her arms from around her sister and takes a step off to the side. "You're not coming?"

She gathers up the cards and begins to shuffle them carefully keeping her eyes on her fast hands. "I wouldn't want to intrude."

There is no way I could possibly express how grateful I am at such a sentiment. I hardly want to lead the last remaining member of Merrill's family into a fight after only knowing her for two days. After last night it is hardly the best second impression. So before anyone can protest I jump in. "I'll get Varric and we'll be off."

"You want to take Varric down a mine." Isabella says, turning to me and looking down her nose at me as if I have spontaneously grown a second head. "Underground." She clarifies.

"I need a lock pick." I say simply standing from the table.

Isabella can get a treasure chest open in ten heartbeats flat, is somehow always at my back and the best dullest I've ever met. Yet she always appears to be too distracted to be able to unlock a door or spot a trap. Also it would appear, completely unable to take a hint. She turns to Lyna and points an accusing finger in her direction. "I'm pretty sure you could pick a lock with your teeth."

"I must remember to try that." The warden says with a thoughtful look on her face. "It's a challenge now." She makes no further comment on the invitation and begins to slide the coins on the table into her purse.

"If you came with us…" Isabella starts leaning over the table in what I can only describe as a seductive way. "…You might be able to avoid shoe shopping."

Somehow the elf is already on her feet, her twin blades thrown over one shoulder with her thumb hooked under the leather belt. "So where are we going again?" She asks lifting her eyebrows at me.

Well, isn't that just bloody brilliant.

A/N – This chapter I admit was probably more for me than you guys. I needed to get into Hawke's head and discovered she may just be an tiny bit boring. I retract that. Stoic, that's what she is. And highly insecure I didn't mean to do that, really didn't but I kinda like it. What do you think? 


	5. Chapter 5

A/N Alright I can't believe I put this chapter off fro so long because when I got that one last review that kicked my rear end to actually sit down a write it I really enjoyed it. I really hope you do too and I managed to give the characters their distinct voice, which is proving difficult, especially with Merrill. Ah well. ENJOY! And as always please read and review. 

**Chapter 5**

Warden's POV

"With a name like 'The Bone Pit' you have to expect people to be a little wary of the place." I comment. My eyes on my belt buckle as I pull it tightly around my hip. Choosing on this occasion to have my twin blades hanging at my side rather than against my back.

Merrill who is walking beside me giggles and I can fell her eyes on my fidgeting hands. "You say that like I named it."

"No elf would name anything so ominously." The buckle sides into places and I tuck the remaining strip of leather into by belt loop. After smoothing my palms over the material and adjusting it's position so I am happy with how it sits I return my eyes to the road so I can avoid walking into passing Shems. That would be embarrassing.

"The People do lack imagination in that department." Merrill light tone assaults my ears again. "I'm sure we would have just called it 'The Mine' and be done with it."

I find myself laughing out loud. "The People would never dig underground for useless rocks. That is defiantly a practise we can leave for the Shems."

Isabella chooses this moment to enter the fray, her light tone reaching my ears from a few paces behind me from where she walks beside Hawke. "I've heard frolicking through the woods is much more your style."

I sense flirtation in her tone and cannot help but reciprocate. "Nothing wrong with a good frolic."

The smile in Isabella's voice is hard to miss even through I am unable to see her face. "Even naked ones?"

The interaction with the pirate queen is suddenly more important than looking where I'm going and I cast a meaning full glances over my shoulder and pull a smirk across my lips. "There're the best kind."

"I don't think I've ever seen you frolic." Merrill says and a quick glace tells me that her forehead is creased as she looks at the floor trying to remember a time when I had. "Naked or otherwise."

I hear Hawke clear her throat directly behind me, clearly uncomfortable with both my presence and the topic of conversation. Though she remains quiet it is clear from the small act that she has picked up on the double meaning behind our words where Merrill has been unable.

Isabella's words do nothing to ease Hawke's discomfort. "Trust me Kitten. There are few who… Frolic better." The small pause and the emprises she puts onto the word has a light heat hitting my cheeks and a small smirk crossing my face which I feel the need to hide from my sister and her partner.

"Oh." Merrill says, looking a little dejected that this is something that Isabella had seen but she had not. I'm surprised to hear realisation in her voice a scant moment later. "Oh. It's something dirty isn't it?" Momentarily I close my eyes and shake my head hoping that she will not pry any further into the double-layered conversation. The more… creative moments I have encountered in the bedroom and I must admit, spending my life with Leliana does promote quite a few, is not something I wish to be disusing with my sister. "I don't understand. Wasn't Leliana angry?"

I move my lips to form speech, hoping to push the whole conversation in a different direction but the Rivaini swiftly cuts me off. "I wouldn't worry Kitten. I'm sure she was… singing about it for days."

"Okay." I say, pulling at the collar of my armour which is suddenly far to constricting as the steady heat of embarrassment clambers up my neck. "Can we talk about something else?" With anyone else I would have been happy to continue the light teasing but Merrill is relentless in her search for knowledge and giving a detailed description of that night in the Peril is not high on my to do list.

"I like this conversation." So help me Isabella if you continue this I will not be responsible for the consequences. "It's… Stimulating."

"Will you please stop doing that." I plead. How the woman is able to make a pause in her speech sound like liquid sex is beyond me.

She pays my words no head, furthering my humiliation with a chuckle and a comment of, "When it makes you turn such an interesting shade of red?"

"I don't understand." Merrill's says a second time, her gentle confusion saving me from the prowess of the pirate queen. "How would the bed be big enough for all three of you?" Apparently not for long though.

Isabella lyrical laughter punctures the air just as we exit the city and I am immediately confronted by wilderness. Rolling meadows for as far as the eye can see. Grass, real grass spurting from the ground, reaching waist height in a desperate bid to be closest to the sun's rays. The sounds of blustering winds as it flows through the tall blades and wrapping around me in a comforting embrace. I am far to wrapped up in the sights, smells and feel of the earth to be troubled by Isabella's reply of. "It doesn't always have to be in a bed Kitten."

Without pause for thought I step off to the side of the track beaten into the earth by passing travellers, bending my knees into a stoop I reach towards the ground and grasp the dirt in my fingertips. I then bring my closed fist to eyelevel and gently release the dried earth to the winds, watching as the small partials are caught in its presence and swooped away. After taking a deep breath, my eyes closing to saver the moment, my palm flattens once more against the earth. Gently greeting the land properly after so long at sea, letting its essence filter into my skin gripping my heart and taking me home.

When I let my eyelids slide open I turn to find the Merrill's smiling eyes and two sets of very confused humans looking down at me. I ignore all of the glances, along with the almost overwhelming urge to remove my boots so I am able to feel the dirt between my toes and rise to my feet, brushing the dust from my hands to clean them. The humans could never understand the elation we feel at such a small act. Could never comprehend the relationship we have with the earth as it gently reminds us of exactly where we belong.

My hands reach to my hip to thoughtlessly adjust my belt and I return to the group hoping to avoid any questions with regards to my actions. I receive nothing more than a raised eyebrow from Hawke and a mutter. "Elves are strange creatures." From Isabella, but neither of them prod for an explanation, for which I am thankful. Simply because I have none, the true extend with regards to the connection all elves have with nature, lost to the depths of history when my ancestors were taken as slaves by the Tevinter.

"So which way?" I ask and step aside so Hawke can step in front of us and take the lead.

Merrill quickens her steps to walk alongside her partner, casting her a glace but making no move to reach out for her, leaving me to amble along beside the flirtatious Pirate Queen.

The four of us dip into a comfortable silence save for Hawke, who is so tense I can see her muscles bunch beneath her plate armour. Trying my best to ignore the anxious warrior up ahead I cast my gaze over the surrounding fields, not really wanting to be the one to try and strike up a conversation between the group of close friends, happy to simply be an outside observer, looking into their quirks and mannerisms around each other.

"Can I ask you something?" The suggestive ring in Isabella voice form only moments ago are gone and I feel her eyes on the back of my head.

Feeling my forehead crease a little I turn to her, wondering why she would abandon her more direct approach in favour of asking for my permission to speak. "You can always ask Isabella. Doesn't mean I'll always answer."

"Fair enough." She concedes with a smile pulled across her full lips. "Why don't you have any tattoos?" she asks using her index finger to gesture over her own face. For some reason she feels the need to delicacy explain her question at my raised eyebrow. "Merrill once told me that her… What are they called?"

"Vallaslin." Merrill's adds helpfully in a distracted tone, her eyes sweeping over the landscap**e.**

"Yeah that." Isabella says. "She mentioned that they were a mark of adulthood. Now correct me if I'm wrong but I thought you were the older sibling."

I find myself smiling at the common misconception all humans appear to have with regards to The People. "Among the Dalish, age is measured in accomplishment not in years. I just didn't pass all the tests."

"Oh." The pirate says thoughtfully looking down at her boots for a long moment. I don't think she had meant for her question to provoke such a personal response but now she is curious and appears unsure of herself as she makes her next enquiry. "Which one?"

"I failed to enter into something called A Rite of Sociedade." I say knowing that the term will explain very little to any human.

"I see." Isabella states, sarcasm dripping from her tone "Well that clears everything up."

I laugh out loud and the sound echoes around the rolling fields. Deciding to put her out of her misery and with a mild interest as to the reactions I will receive, I concede. "Humans tend to call it Marriage."

The reaction I receive is much more interesting that I could have hoped for. A few steps ahead of me the stoic warrior appears to trip over her own feet, stumbles a couple of paces before being able to right herself and then sharply turns her head to look over Merrill who looks to have seen something so fascinating on the horizon that she misses the entire spectacle. Hawks for her part can do no more than blink at my sister in obvious surprise but says nothing. Choosing instead to rests her palm against the hilt of her sword and turn her gaze away, saving that particular conversation for somewhere much more private.

I share a silent glace with Isabella and see amusement dancing in her eyes that I feel mirrored in my own.

Hawke swiftly turns off the beaten tracks and leads us towards the crest of a hill, as we near the top the crackle of small fires reach my ears and the sight that greets me has my step faltering. The mine appears to be nothing more than a baron wasteland amongst such lush fields. Thousands of feet, trampling any life that could spring forth into dust, the current absence of movement and the still, deathly silent air giving the place a distinctly ominous feel. Small abandoned campfires scatter the ground: spits with now charred carcasses and rabbit and game rest above the flames, pots and pans scatter the ground, some spilling forth an obvious meal into the dirt. I follow my three companions and upon closer inspection find the telltale signs of running footfalls imprinted into the dust at our feet. No scuffle or any form of confrontation, just hordes of men fleeing for their lives.

I break away from the group, going over to inspect one of the fires, which is starting to burn low. Crouching down and resting my elbows on my bent knees, I run the very edges of my fingertips around the mass of footprints I find, trying to distinguish between each one without destroying them.

"Looks like they were just setting down to eat." Isabella comments her eyes still on our surrounding. All signs of our light banter leaving her voice in favour of a serious appraisal of the scene.

I nod my agreement and follow with my eyes the direction of the footprints. "Then they ran for the trees." Then I turn my head in the opposite direction to scan my eyes over whatever could have provoked such mass hysteria.

Pushing against my thighs and gingerly push myself to my feet, not wanting to disturb the ground any further than necessary my eyes continue to scan the ground for anything out of place. With light footstep I leave the three still studying the campfires until I find a set of distinctly different footprints pushing into the dusty earth. My trained eyes continue to apprise them until I hear Isabella voice from behind me. "Well that's very organised." 

"Regimented. Line formation." I add, running my gaze along the long straight line where soldiers once stood. "Two lines I think."

For the first time since leavening The Hanged Man Hawke speaks with her arms crossed against her breastplate. "Walking dead don't have the coordination to move like that."

"They can." I argue lightly, my mind casting back to the fateful night so long ago in Redcliffe village. Heading off waves upon waves of the vile creatures. "When they're commanded properly."

Merrill is the next to speak. "You've seen this before."

I nod, drawing my gaze away from the ground and cast it over the surrounding to see where they might have disappeared to, so they will be able to escape the harsh light of day and in a distracted voice I answer. "Long time ago." I am thankful that no one questions me further. The words of a demon as he spoke through that small child and the cold fingers of guilt gripping my heart as I plunged my blade deep into his chest haunt me to this very day. Trying to distract myself from the ghost of those memories I ask. "Is there an entrance to the mine near here?"

Hawke nods, appearing much more comfortable in her own skin now the conversation is firmly on the task at hand. "This way." Her long stride takes us beneath a crudely crafted wooden archway and a few steps beneath the doorway. She tries the handle and finds the door locked and a hear a frustrated whisper of "Of course it is." Before her eyes land on me, silently ask for me to work my magic and grant her entrance to the mine.

She steps out of my way as I push forward, already reaching into my pocket for my lock pick. After pulling up the tights of my leather breaches so I cam more comfortable to stoop at the doorway I lower my body closer to the floor, running my fingers over the keyhole and trying to appraise the lock as best I can, squinting into the darkness. "Merrill can I have some light?"

She taps the base of her staff against the ground twice and a globe of bright blue illumination emits from the head, She crouches down and tries her best to angle the light source in an effective way, even loosening her grip when I grasp the shaft to position it for her until I can see the inner workings of the lock. Double pin barrel mechanism. Certainly won't be opening that with my teeth. I pull my lower lip between my teeth and push the tension wrench into the head of the keyhole, pressing first up and down to feel for the rotation of the lock.

I hate feeling eyes on me when I do this and there are so many pressing heavily into my back it makes it difficult to concentrate. So in a bid to have Hawke cast her gaze away and feign ignorance I strike up a conversation with Merrill. "Is she always so quiet?" I ask tilting my head in the warrior's direction.

Merrill either doesn't notice the now uncomfortable look crossing her partner's face or simply chooses to ignore it. "Not always." She pauses and lets me further maneuver the head of her staff. When I am happy I press the pick against the opening and push down letting the side of my lips lift and I hear the first pin click into place. "She's just waiting for you to disapprove." Merrill continues.

Behind me there is the distinct sound of boots scraping against the floor and armour creaking and Hawke begins to move uncomfortably. Another pin drops into place and I let a thoughtful expression cross my face. "Oh." I hadn't even considered that the warrior would be so scared of my opinion.

"Are you going to?" Merrill's eyes carefully stay on the lock, the light being held so still that I get the impression that she is holding her breath for my answer.

The click of another pin indicated that I am already nearly done with the old lock and I turn my gaze towards her, knowing I can accomplish the rest if my task by touch. "Would it make any difference?" Another click and the tension wrench gives, beginning to turn.

Merrill's eyes dance with glee and she turns her head to look over Hawke's tense back where she has at some point turned away from us to stare at something etched into the dirt. The smile placing at the edges of my sister's lips is enough. The tall warrior may be stoic and hard but she brings my sister happiness. Something she has not experienced much throughout her life. I will throw myself to the darkspawn before I stand in the way of that. Merrill's green eyes land back on mine with a new determination. "No." She answers me and Hawke's eyes are back on us in an instant.

I nod slowly, reaching up to pull against the handle and push open the door. "Good."


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Ladies and Gentlemen, drum roll please. I have to announce that this story… FINLAY has a direction. There's a plot arch there will very soon be a plan written down and everything. All those little one shot scenes in my head suddenly just fell into place. I can't wait! Now I know where I'm going to take this it's going to start moving forward, not this chapter though, we need to finish at least this quest. Plus I need to get Hawke and Lyna in that place where they can acutely talk to one another.So were ganna start just where we left off last time. :D Please R&RChapter 6

**Hawke's POV**

Fire curls deep in my chest, growing in intensity with every passing moment, burning against my lungs in a desperate plea for air and travelling up my throat to stings behind my eyes. I have nothing to distract me but the pain and I am left just standing there, waiting for the warden crouched silently on the floor to openly disapprove of my relationship with her sister. Effectively ending any hope I might harbour for it's continued existence. My eyes stinging as I stare at nothing, needing to be anywhere else, listening to any other conversation in the whole a Thedas.

Why would Merrill ask such a question? To openly ask Lyna if she disapproves of our union, to give her space to condemn the best thing that has ever happened to me. When it could have easily just been left alone. A discussion never to be had, just held as a tension between the Grey Warden and myself, something that by all rights Merrill should have been unable to even notice.

"Would it make any difference?" Lyna asks calmly.

My heart begins to hammer so hard in my chest that I am certain all of my companions can her it bashing against my plate armour in a bit to burst from my chest. The pause that follows is impossibly long, a heavy silence that threatens crush me where I stand. My jaw clenches of it's own violation so tightly that I hear the joint creak in protest and still I cannot draw breath. Still unable to move and physically distance myself from the display.

"No." What? At the softly spoken word my eyes shoot to my elven lover who is not paying me any attention. Her gaze is on her sister, and for the longest heartbeat they do nothing more than look into each other's impossibly bright eyes.

It's then that I see the edges of Lyna's lips pull up into a smirk. "Good." She says and abruptly opens the door. Turning to run her practiced eye along the mineshaft and thankfully either obvious to or ignoring the effect their exchange has upon me. I reach out to the wooden over hang to steady myself against it, my lungs finally allowing me to draw breath and my knees threatening to give out from under me in relief. Thank the maker for small mercies.

Unfortunately for me Isabella, who has remained silent up until now does not miss the action and is it not within her nature to let such a reaction go unnoticed. "Don't often see you out of breath Hawke."

I shoot her what I hope to be one of my more intimidating glares. Though all she does is pull her full lips into an amused grin, remaining in her relaxed pose with her back leaning against the wall.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Merrill making to stand from her crouched position only to be stopped by the other elf's hand pressing against her shoulder. "What's the matter?" She asks dutifully lowering herself closer to the ground.

Lyna's eyes have not left the inky darkness on the other side of the open door. She turns her head slightly and I see her ears twitch. Just once and the movement was barely there, however it is a practice that I have never seen before in either Merrill or Firenze.

"Do you hear something?" Merrill gently prods, having also noticed the strange movement of her ears but completely unfazed by it.

Lyna's head shakes in a negative gesture. "Not a breath." She says sounding disturbed by the realisation.

"Surly that's a good thing?" Isabella says at my side and I find enough strength to push off from the wall to stand on my own two feet.

Lyna then makes a thoughtful sound in the back of her throat, her back still facing me so I cannot see the expression on her face. "Why bar the door then not post a guard?" The three of us fall silent, presumable both Isabella and Merrill are finding it equally difficult as me to come up with a logical answer to the Warden's question. Lyna's hand reaches upwards to once again take the shaft of Merrill's staff in her grasp and pull the head closer to the floor, illuminating the ground. She reaches out, plucking the damp earth between her forefinger and thumb and examine it, running her two digits together so the dirt freely falls at her feet.

"Okay." Isabella starts, becoming increasingly frustrated. She has never been one to be able to stand around idly and we have made her do so for several minuets now. "I'm beginning to think you have a mud fetish."

"That may be." Lyna says, a smile once again laced through her voice. "But how many mines have you been in with freshly dug floors?" Lyna finally taking her eyes off the dank tunnel turns her head to look over her shoulder at us her eyebrows raised in question.

I turn my gaze to Isabella just as she turns to me, shrugging her shoulders to show her confusion to the statement; which I fear must be showing on my face. "Perhaps they kicked up some dirt when they marched back in here." Isabella says and then sighs, her very short fuse quickly coming to an end. "I don't know Warden. Does it really matter?"

Lyna's eyes are on the floor and she finds a shovel propped up against the wooden wall. "They didn't kick it up. They dug it up." She takes the spade turning it around and resting her hands high up the shaft she jabs it into the earth. With a loud clatter the leg hold trap springs up from beneath the freshly dug earth, the moment making it jump into the air throw the earth that was covering it all around out feel, a single glisten of sharpened steal passes into my vision as it caches on the limited light source a fraction of a heartbeat before deadly metal teeth strike the thin length of wood with such a force that it shatters on impact.

"Oh balls." Isabella exclaims and I must say that I agree with her. While underground bear traps are difficult to spot at the best of times. If these creatures have taken the time to dig them in one of us could very likely be going back to Kirkwall with one less limb. "Is there any other way in Hawke?"

"A few, but none to my knowledge connect with this tunnel." I say crossing my arms across my chest, seriously considering coming back after nightfall to face the blasted things in the open air, where they have had less time to make such preparations.

"I can get us in this way." Lyna says pushing herself gracefully to her feet and taking the time to brush off her knees. "I just need a studier trigger." She turns to make her way out of the alcove only to stop and look up at me expectantly. It takes me a moment to realise I am firmly in her way and I step to the side to let her pass. She throws me a highbrowed, amused smile and disappears around the corner.

Merrill also stands from her crouch, trying to look anywhere but at me. Something I had noticed her doing from the moment Lyna had mentioned she could not become an adult within her clan because she failed to marry. Implying that Merrill had at the very least had once been close enough to someone to enter into such an arrangement.

"Oh, tension." Isabella says, doing nothing to alleviate it. "Bugger that." She swiftly turns to follow the Warden back into the yard calling out to her as she goes.

So we are left alone and in silence, save for the slight shuffle of her toes against the loose earth. I let my eyes run over her nervous form. Remembering all the other times she jumped to an explanation without being asked, all I would normally be required to do if stay quiet and listen intently to her quickly spoken words. Something is different this time, for some reason she refuses to broach the subject. Whether it be her sisters presence or the nature of the secret she has been keeping.

Her eyes flick up to meet mine for only a second before they once more fall the to ground at her feet. Though she only lets me see her bright pools of green for a mere moment it is enough to see her fear within them. She fears me, or rather she fears my reaction.

After taking a moment to check the other two are out of earshot I drag my booted feet to stand before her, putting my steel graves directly in her line of sight. My gauntlets squeak as the plates of metal grind against each other so I can rest my hand against her shoulders. She flinches slightly not expecting the gentle contact but does not pull away. "Merrill." I say trying to remain gentle.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you." She starts still speaking to our feet. "There never seemed to be a right time and it was so long ago that..."

My gloved palm presses against the side of her neck and my thumb pushing against her chin to turn her face skywards as she being to speak almost to quickly for me to understand. Leaning down I press my lips to her cutting off her fearful ramblings, being unable to hear such an emotion in her voice especially when I am the one who put it there. I pull back and when I open my eyes I am pleased to see that the action has at the very least calmed her enough for her to be able to meet my gaze. "Slow down." I request quietly, only now noticing that her hands have migrated up my chest to rest against the cool steel of my breastplate.

Unshed tears glisten in her eyes and they dart from side to side, searching my face. "You're not angry?"

"About you being married?" Even though I see her bit her bottom lip so she cannot correct me on the term she nods. "No. Very surprised and a little hurt that you didn't mention it, but not angry."

She lets out a shaky breath. "I never thought about it. It just didn't seem important. I certainly didn't mean to keep it from you." Her eyes still search out mine and I remain quiet, waiting for her to spring to a clarification. I am not kept waiting long. "We were little more than children really. So much so we didn't understand. But the clan needed a first, that's why I was given to them and you cannot be a keepers first if you are Da'halen." I feel a scowl spread across my face. They just gave her away? Passed her around between the clans like she was nothing more than a story to be shared. "It means child." She clarifies, misreading my expression.

I make no move to correct her not wanting to inadvertently offend her or the ways of her clan, something I must admit I have very little knowledge of. "Do you have any other surprises for me?" I ask.

"Urm." Her eyes hit the low ceiling deep in thought. "I don't know. I didn't even think this was important until it was said out loud."

With a shallow smile I shake my head, convinced that this will not be the only shocking revelation that will be uncovered while the Grey Warden remains in Kirkwall. Slowly as not to catch her in the folds in my armour I run my hands around her back to press her against my chest in a brief embrace. "I can accept that."

"… Its… Pathetic." Isabella's exasperated voice filters to my ears from outside, indicating the return of the rest of out party.

"People need help. Someone has to." Lyna argues back. I give the elf in my arms a further squeeze and rest my lips against the top of her head, pulling back so her sister will not witness the tail end of the exchange. "Looking after number one all the time is no way to live your life."

I brace myself for the explosion, knowing that this is a touchy subject for the Pirate but find that my fears are ill founded as both round the corner and come back into view. With Isabella pointedly staring at the shorter elf in disbelief. "Yes, but why does it have to be us?" It is odd that Isabella would not completely dispute the statement. I have had this discussion with her many times and have received nothing but thinly veiled sarcasm.

Lyna shrugs and quickly squeezes to the front of the group carrying a long shaft of iron in one hand. "Has to be someone."

"Said like a true hero." Isabella's taunt catches a nerve within the Warden who shots her gaze over her shoulder only to be met by the pirates amused expression.

"The only hero's I know are dead." The elf's tiny hands reach above her head for the lantern hanging at the top of the doorway and she quickly strikes a flit to light the paraffin, bathing us all in a warm glow. "Alright then. We go in single file and you need to walk in my footprints."

Isabella shows her teeth in a grin, nodding at the instruction but still unable to resist a jibe at the Warden's expense. "Doubting your skills?" 

A single raised eyebrow is her response before Lyna turns towards the doorway, bending her knees to lower her lantern to the ground as soon as she passes the threshold she uses the long tube of iron to prod at the ground in search of hidden traps. I can't help but think that Lyna's solution to our problem is a little on the simple side but after hearing another pair of steel teeth clatter shut I have to admit it is effective.

With Isabella just in front of me and Merrill just behind, holding the illumination of her staff close to the floor so we are able to see the rouge elf's footprints in the freshly dug earth, we slowly make our way down into the mine. The level ground near the doorway very rapidly falling into a steep decent, my heavy sabatons pressing into the damp ground and threatening to slide into the back of the other two women with every step.

Thankfully the two rouges remain quiet, Isabella choosing to hang back a few paces to give Lyna enough space to hunt for the deadly traps in a wide arc. The warden finds three further traps laid for us, before pushing against the close door into the next chamber.

The room we walk into is much more caverns than the tunnel we left behind. Flecks of silver glisten from deep within the rocks in the dim light and after Lyna is happy that we will still keep our feet we fan out. My eyes searching into the darkness around us and I am frustrated to find that I an unable to see more than three feet from soft glow of the lamp in Lyna hand.

"Any idea where that goes?" The elf asks, her arm outstretching to point into the gloom.

"Where what goes?" The pirate at my side says leaning forward to squint into the darkness. "I can't see a blasted thing."

"The creators gave you a bum deal when they gave you those Shemlin eyes." Lyna says, provoking a small giggle from Merrill. "You should get a refund." She turns her head towards the pirate, her blue eyes catching the dim light as it passes and flash impossibly bright in the darkness. "There's a tunnel. Come on." Abandoning her caution approach she begins to stride in the vague direction of where she had been pointing. Pulling far enough ahead to be swallowed by the gloom, only the echo of her confident footsteps the tiny speck of light from her lantern belay her position in the large chamber.

A sound early similar to that of a twig snapping in the forest rings through the room echoing off the walls and ceiling. Up ahead I watch Lyna stop in her tracks and look down at her feet. "Oh." Is all she says and her ridged posture has me quickening my steps. Another crack of wood and a cry of fright hit the air and the Grey Warden is quickly swallowed up by the ground and taken from my sight, replaced by a shaft of shining light that is almost blinding against the murky cavern.

My sword slides easily from its sheath at my hip and I approach the jagged hole my companion had fallen through. After shielding my eyes against the brightness so I am able to allow my eyes to adjust my gaze searches out the fallen elf, finding her lying face down at least ten feet below out feet. With a groan of protest she pushes against the floor to lift her torso from the ground and shakes the debris from her hair. "Ow."

"Well." Isabella starts, her voice laced with her smirk. "That was clever."

"Remind me to thank for you're your concern." She with several heavy breaths she pushes herself up to sit back on her hunches, one arm reaching round to rub at the shoulder joint of the other. Hey eyes search the ceiling and find the three of is looking down on her. "I'm fine, by the way."

"Never had any doubt of that." The pirate says only smiling wider at the wardens incomprehensible grumble from below.

"Maybe we could throw you a rope." Merrill states in excitement, at first failing to see the key flaw in her plan. "If we had any rope."

"There has to be another way down." I say hopefully.

Below us an echo of what I can only describe as a strangled scream pieces the air and has Lyna shooting her gaze begin her. "Oh great." With another grumble she pushes herself up onto her bent knee and her sharp blades slide from their scabbards to rest easily into her hands. "I could do with some help down here." Before I know it she's on her feet, dropping into a defensive stance and pushing into a sprit so she leaves out sight.

My eyes catch Merrill's and I realise a split second to late exactly what she intends to do. All she does is step forward and she falls down the fresh crevice made in the ground my eyes shoot downward following her decent my heart once again hammering against my breastplate. I needn't have worried, she lands gracefully on bent knees a spell already changed and ready at the head of her staff. Her clumsiness within the city walls sometimes makes me forget that she is a graceful creature of the trees.

I let out a relived breath only to have a flash of white enter my sites and Isabella follows suit, her knees bend on impact and she pushes herself into a forward roll, her swords slipping from her back and into her hands in a single graceful movement.

I grunt to myself in frustration, knowing that my own decent will not be as elegant as that of the others. Handing myself over to the inevitable I unhook my shield from my back, letting it slip into my hands so I am at the very least ready for battle. After altering my grip on both of my weapons I check there is no one still in my landing zone then walk forward, my stomach jumping up my throat as I fall.


	7. Chapter 7

**Warning: Depictions of graphic violence to follow. You have been warned. **

**Chapter 7**

**Warden's POV**

With a high sweep of my blade it's razor sharp edge slices through the rusty old metal of one of my opponent's chest plate, cutting into the rotting flesh beneath and embedding itself into the bones of his ribs. Trying to pull by blade free and finding and unyielding resistance I am forced to drop it from my grasp to avoid an overhead strike of a battle axe slicing my arm off at the elbow.

Losing my sword from my dominate hand immediately sets me at a disadvantage and I take a step back as one of the walking dead crumples to the ground, my sword still firmly wedged into his chest. Swapping my reaming sword from the left hand over to my right I take another cautions step back and out range of the wildly swinging, double sided axe to give me enough time to compose myself.

My opponent takes another step forward and I easily duck under the high sweep and roll forwards and behind him, reaching into my boot for a short dagger so my left hand is not left empty during battle.

Instinct pushing my knees straight and presses one foot heavily into the stone floor I turn and in a single stroke slash the blade of my dagger clean through the spine of the axe welding undead. Without the few strings of flesh and the line of bone to hold it's head steady, his chin hits his breastplate with a clang and he drops to his knees. His dead weight dragging him to the floor a moment later in a mass of rotting flesh and rusty armour.

With adrenalin pounding through my veins and no more opponents to exert my energy on I turn my eyes to the other members of the party.

One walking dead, his bones so old that they are belched white and not a scrap of flesh clings to them, jumps into the air, sword raised high above his head and arcs through the air towards Hawke. Only to land flat against the tall warriors shield, with such force that it forces the old bones to separate at each joint and fall uselessly to the floor at her feet. She swipes her shield from it's defensive position to bash against the chest of another enemy while simultaneously swinging her sword to decapitate another.

Isabela throws herself into a roll under the overhead strike of a war hammer, it misses her by a hands breath and strikes the floor with such ferocity it cracks the stone, throwing pebbles into the air around it. With her adversary sufficiently distracted trying to right himself, Isabela quickly dispatches him with a swipe of her blade before swiftly moving onto another.

Seeing that both of the two fighters are not in any immediate danger my eyes reach out further, right to the back to the group just in time to see Merrill take a step back losing ground to her attachers that are getting much to close for a mage to have to deal with. Twirling her staff she conjures a spirit bolt from its tip and throws it into the chest of her enemy, he crumples to the floor only to be replaced by another.

I can see she is very quickly becoming overwhelmed, not being used to close quarter combat of any sort and her faltering steps tell me her continual barrage of spells are beginning to take its toll on her. Flipping the small dagger in my grasp so the blood smears blade lands in my palm, I draw it back and release, decisively taking down the closest opponent to my sister as the sharp edge embeds itself his skull right up to the hilt.

Merrill's bright green eyes meet mine for a heartbeat in silent thanks before her attention is drawn to the side and she fires a ball of fire at her nearest opponent.

My eyes flick to the left to find Hawke forcefully carving a path through the undead horde with both her sword and shield towards my sister. She's like a women possessed, letting nothing stand in her way for more than a heartbeat before lashing out with her weapons to cut all who oppose her down to size, a line of walking dead sent back to the grave left in her wake.

Seeing that the small mage is in good hands I fully turn my attention back to my immediate soundings, only to have to bring my remaining blade up and across my chest to block of vicious strike. Steal clatters against steal and I throw my weight against my weapon to throw my foe away from me.

He recovers quickly and once more rises his blade to strike, three quick parries and a single thrust and he goes down like a bag of bones at my feet. Another steps forward to take his place only to meet the same end at the point of my sword.

Spinning on the spot I find another trying to flank my unarmed left side, he has manages to get for to close for my comfort and without thinking I strike out with my closed fist, catching the loosely hanging jaw with my ill placed punch dislodging it so it fly through the air, ducking under a high arc from my opponent's blade I sweep my sword low catching his knees and quite literally take the feet from under him. He crumples to the floor and meets a grizzly end under the pommel of my sword as it falls onto what remains of his face, crushing it into only splinters of bone.

In moments I'm back on my feet. My breath ragged and heart hammering in my chest, my tainted blood singing at being amongst so much destruction and I can feel the hunger for more churning into a ball of fire deep in my belly. My eyes sweeping over the last remaining few of the horde that attacked us.

Three steps, one pray and my blade slides easily through rotting flesh, one more I must relinquish my blade as I meet resistant in extracting it. It no longer matters, the blood of darkspawn rejoicing in my veins at the sight before me. Two more steps and a kick to the knee and another waling skeleton crumples at my feet only for his skull to be crushed under my advancing boot. A duck under another blade leads me naturally into a powerful uppercut, Detaching my opponents head from his shoulders, the length of my forearm presses against his chest to remove the obstacle before me.

I stop my advance, finding nothing more to oppose me. Then scan the room with my eyes, the violent nature of the taint begging and pleading for more death, more carnage and more blood.

The room is quiet and hollow to my ears save my own heavy breaths and out of the corner of my eye I spy movement. Cautious steps of a human I can barely recognise in the mist of the blood-lust haze. Had I been fighting humans? The rotting corpses at my feet say otherwise but the taint running through me craves blood. Be it friend or foe it is uncaring in it's endeavour. A tiny slither of humanity shines through the darkness blanketing my soul enough for me to close my eyes and remove the temptation to step across this room and end every life within it until I bathe in their blood and panicked screams.

My shoulders bunch as I enter my own private battle. Clawing away at the darkest part of me so I am able to control my actions and curb the volatile nature of what I must endure.

A shout cries out in the hollow room. "Don't touch her!" Then echoing back at me from the stone walls has me flinching against the intestacy of the sound hitting my sensitive ears. I feel my shoulder roll as the darkness relents, giving me back my limbs one by one and only when I feel enough like my self that I will not jump into a violent killing spree do I open my eyes.

All I find in their faces is curious concern, I thought I would be able to rein it in but it was different this time. Usually when the taint takes hold of me its gradual, slowly seeping into my muscles as it lusts for the blood that I feed it. This time I barely even noticed the darkness until I had become engulfed within it.

I turn from their concern, just glad they had not been in striking distance when the sickening darkness in my soul invaded my senses. Busying myself with retrieving my weapons as a hopeless ploy not to meet their questioning gaze.

"_What_ in Andraste's name was _that?" _Isabela's voice cuts through the air and right to the heart of the matter.

Not trusting my voice enough to speak I reach out to wrap my palm around the hilt of my sword and rest my booted foot against the rotting corpse's chest so I can pull it free, pausing to wiping the remaining gristle and bone that clings to it against his worn and battered tunic.

"Warden?" She says again but stops when my gaze touches hers. She takes a step back even though from this distance I couldn't hope to land a killing blow.

A low growl rumbles through my chest without my permission and I have to drop my eyes back to the cobbled floor, the muscles along my neck shaking with restraint as I still struggle to bring my blood-lust back under control.

"Was that the taint?" It is Hawke that asks and only receives a short nod in reply as my sword slides into it's scabbard at my hip. "Okay." I can hear the weaver of fear in her voice and step even further away to retrieve my other blade, needed just a little longer to feel more like myself.

The glint of metal catches my eyes in the bright lights afforded to us from the lava running along the walls and I stoop down next to the body with my blade embedded across his chest. With my back to the rest of the party my elbow lands on my bent knee and my forehead drops into my hand. Nails dig in to every piece of flesh they can find and it's only after several long, shaky breaths that I begin to feel the pain. The darkness fights back, jerking my shoulder and I push more pressure against my skull, grasping onto the self inflicted pain and letting it pull me back into this world. Dragging me away from the deep insatiable need for fury and blood.

Opening my eyes once again I am able to focus on everything around me. Turning my head I see Isabela sat on the stone floor, her arm held in Hawke's hands as she ties a bandage around a shallow wound. All of them speaking in hushed whispers and casting weary glances in my direction.

I reach out and after three tugs managing to pull my blade free, stopping to clean it as I had with the other and pushing it into it's sheath

I stand and make no move to find my dagger, feeling it might be fruitless search, amongst the piles of dead that have collected in that general area and knowing that it was buried to the hilt will make it very difficult to spot. So instead I turn to the others and find myself unsurprised when they stop their hushed conversation upon my approach.

My eyes immediately seek out Merrill's "You alright?"

She smiles and her bright eyes twinkle in the harsh light. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

The grin that pulls across my face succeeds in chasing away the last remanence of the darkness running through my veins. "Just lost myself for a moment." I begin, having no other way of describing the haunting yet familiar experience. "I'll be fine." My eyes seek out Isabela's hooded expression and immediately I need to put her fears to rest. "Sorry if I scared you."

"Apology accepted." She says, still with a crease covering her forehead and not making any move to deny her fright. "Is someone going to fill me in and tell me what that was?" Her eyes shoot over to Hawke with a cry of "Ow." and she wrenches her injured arm from the hands of the warrior. "What was that for?"

Hawke only shoot her a warning look before reaching out to take her limb back into her grasp. I can see through her thinly veiled attempt to protect me from such questions but Isabela does have a point, if we are to press on it would be useful to be knowledgeable if only in part to what the taint can do to me in the mist of battle.

Slowly I lower myself to the ground, loosely bending my knees in front to me and resting my crossed arms across them. "Alistair once called it the Curse of the Grey Warden's." Never have I had to endure something so amply named. "One of them at least. Usually it's harmless, just a nagging voice pushing me forward. Being down here doesn't help." My eyes cast over the high stone coaling of the Deep Roads. Remembering when I had to spend countless weeks so far beneath the ground, so far from the suns warming rays, so close to the Archdemon's forces and having it whisper in my ear every passing moment of every day. It makes me wonder how I was able to keep my sanity.

Even with the Archdemon long since dead the walls of this place hold it's whispers and they glide over me in a gentle caress, breathing words of carnage and blood across my ear.

"Are their any darkspawn close by?" Hawke asks, not taking her eyes from her task.

"No." I answer, wondering how this woman can know so much about the secrets of the Grey Wardens and not have accepted the taint herself. "Not close enough to be any conceivable threat anyway."

She ties off the edge of the bandage and turns to me. "Can you go on. Or do we need to clear a path for you?"

I tilt my head to the side, curious as to her concern, then feel my forehead crease in concentration. listening to my body and all that the tainted blood can tell me. When I fell into this section of the Deep Roads I had not been expecting it. Not been prepared for the barrage of violent emotions that the walls themselves can conjure within me.

Now I have had time to breathe, without the threat of looming battle. Time to pull my thoughts back under my control. Had opportunity to systematically remove the need for blood and death from my mind. "I think I'll be alright. But to be on the safe side, when we come across any more of those bastards don't get to close. I can't always tell friend from foe when I'm like that."

Hawke nods once to show her acceptance of the situation, Isabela shows me an expression of disbelief and Merrill, bless her kind heart, rests her hand against my forearm in a comforting gesture.

"So." I start, making no move to remove my sister's hand from my skin. Drawing comfort from the simple touch and letting it chance my demons away. "Are we ready to go?" I am anxious to make tracks and leave these haunting walls behind hopefully never having to lay eyes on them again.

Isabella shakes her head, I am unsure if it to clear the fear she feels towards me or to catch up to the rapid subject change. She flexes her arm and appraises Hawke's handy work before speaking. "Only if our fearless leader has a plan." Her eyes land on Hawke.

"Well. We can't exactly go back the way we came." Her gaze tilts skywards to the hole I made in the ceiling. "We'll just have to push forward, hopefully we'll get back to the mine shaft."

"And if we don't." Isabella asks while pushing herself to her feet.

"Did you remember to bring a pick axe?" I ask, accepting the helping hand from the Pirate Queen so she is able to pull me to my feet.

"I'm a sailor." She says, scoffing at such a notion. "Sailor's never dig... Unless it's for buried treasure."

Somehow she has managed to go from fearful to teasing within a single breath and I silently thank the Creators for the small gift. "Oh. So you'll dig but only if gold is involved." I reach down and help my sister to her feet while engaging in the easy bater.

"Oh Warden." She starts with a disapproving tone. "It doesn't always have to be gold."

"So what classes as treasure in your warped mind." Hawke being much larger in stature and sporting very heavy plate armer requires both mine and Merrill's aid to pull her from the dusty floor.

Isabela openly appraises me, her eyes running the length of my frame with a smirk fixed to her face that makes the tips of my ears burn. "Well. Any sort of booty there is."

And somehow we're back to flirting. Strange, wrapped, crazy flirting but flirting all the same. She takes a few steps away from us, her hips swaying in such a sensual way that my eyes are naturally drawn to that part of her frame. All thought of blood chased away and replaced by the notion of how I will be able to convince Leliana to spend another night like we did in the Pearl so many moons ago.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8 **

**Hawke's POV**

"Well at the very least, that was exhilarating." The small warden at my side comments adjusting her belt around her hips.

"Not quite the word I would use." I mumble, stepping out of the mines very small alcove and into the waiting sunlight. I hadn't expected the elf to have heard my comment but when I look down at her she's wearing a smirk across her face and looking up in my direction expecting me to continue. "I don't tend to go around looking for Arcane Horrors." I feel uncomfortable under her stare and bring my hands to the high neckline of my pate armour to adjust where its sits against my shoulders.

She shrugs once, falling into step beside me as Isabela and Merrill begins to engage in idle conversation in front of us. "Guess we were just lucky this time."

"Lucky?" The disbelief in my voice is hard to mask, the discomfort I feel in the elf's presence momentarily forgotten.

"Yeah." She shrugs again, her gaze resting on the wilderness around us a small half smile tilting up one side of her lips. "Can't set off on a good quest without a good monster at the end."

I make a small noise of disagreement in the back of my throat. "To think that I long for the quiet days."

"I've spent seven days at sea. I've had just about enough quiet days as I can handle." She says with a scoff, finally turning her eyes in my direction. "So I take it you nobles like things nice and boring?"

My unease slowly begins to evaporate from my shoulders under this easy conversation and I find my self chuckling at her words. "I don't make a very good noble." I know that to be an understatement. Much of my conduct is unbecoming of a lady of my stature. Running around the countryside loaded down with weapons and armour dispatching hordes of the undead lead by an Arcane Horror for example. "Would just be nice to have a day off once in a while."

My eyes land on the elf who walks a few paces ahead of us, leaning over conspicuously to speak in hushed tones with the pirate. If only I could spend a day or two away from the worries of Kirkwall and the constant threat of Templars. Only to spend it among the company of my closest friends and family then all of this adventuring and questing wouldn't feel quite so tedious. As it stands it appears I am hardly permitted to breath without some distressed member of the elite deeming it necessary to call on me for every trivial matter that rears it's ugly head. It does make one wonder if all other young nobles must endure the same pains or if it is simply the curse of being 'That Ferelden upstart' and they simply wish to run me all the way back to Lowtown.

Lyna hums low in her throat and a quick glance her way shows me that she is following my gaze to the back of her sisters head. One of her eyebrows raises and a thoughtful look passes across her features. "You love her don't you?" She says simply and even though her words pose a question her tone tells me she already knows the answer.

Sending a cautionary glance towards the two women ahead of us is enough to convince me that they are not listening to our conversation. "With all that I am." Keeping my jaw set and my eyes firmly on the dirt path at our feat I wait. Patently wait for some form of rebuttal or rejection from my lovers family.

The words that leave the elven rogues lips are the last I would have expected. "You make her happy."

For the second time today I lose all co ordination in my lower limbs, stumbling over my own feet and having to take a few unsteady steps to right myself. At my elbow, beneath the folds in my armour a hand lands against the leather underlay stopping me from falling face first into the dirt and as I look towards it's owner the warden's face shows me only the spark of mirth at my reaction.

"You are clumsy today Hawke." Isabela's voice, as always demanding of attention reaches my ears more sparks of amusement can be found in the depths of her dark eyes. "Are you sure you didn't sneak a tot of whisky before we left The Hanged Man?"

"Get away with you." Lyna comes to my defence with a small laugh, her hand still holding my arm pulls us both to a stop. The two women in front of us also draw to a halt questioning eyes sent towards the warden.

The two rouges share a short silent exchange and the smile that draws across Isabela's face is less than comforting. "Oh. Is this is big brother talk? More importantly can I watch?"

"No." The elf says making a shooing motion with her free hand her other still wrapped around my elbow.

"Not even if I say pity please?" Isabela begins to argue the grin sent in my direction is one that begins to let my discomfort settle once more over my bones.

"Absolutely not, now just..." She pauses for a moment appearing to search for the correct wording. "Bugger off."

The whole of the pirate queen's frame deflates in defeat, taking on the temperament of a purulent child who had been denied a new toy. "Oh alright." She kicks at the dirt beneath her boot and turns to Merrill. "Come on Kitten, I know where we're not wanted." She turns my beloved away down the road and with a few gentle prods manages to get her to walk a few steps down the path before once more turning towards me. "Now Hawke, do you need a suicide poison or anything?" the shocked look I can feel covering my face does little more than encourage her to continue her attempts at throwing me into a full scale anxiety attack. "You know, just in case things get a little rough."

The warden's hand leaves my arm to push against the pirate's shoulder. Her laughter reaching my ears dispels some worry but I still feel remarkably uncomfortable within my own skin. "Go away." Isabela then turns to leave catching up with the small elven mage who has stopped a few paces ahead. Isabela's arm easily going over her thin shoulders and they appear to once more drop into conversation.

Lyna's soft chuckle as she runs her hand through her shoulder length brown hair. She shakes her head at the retreating pair the raises her eyes up to meet mine. Her eyebrow raises and once more I feel like she is able to read my thoughts. Pricking and prodding within my mind with these soul piercing, impossibility bright blue eyes. She smirks in what appears to be frustration then turns away. "Well. After that this is definitely going to be anti-climactic."

I get the uncontrollable urge to wipe my now sweaty palms against my trouser legs only to realise with a clatter of steel that both my gauntlets and my cuisse prevent me from taking that action. So instead I fall back onto my training, clenching a single hand into a fist at my side and resting the other upon the hilt of my sword at my hip. Preparing for any form of confrontation.

"You're not going to make this easy are you?" She asks shaking her head and looking across the landscape. She takes her lower lip between her teeth for a moment and her eyes close into slits against the beating midday sun. "I'm not going to threaten you, I genuinely believe that it might do more harm than good."

I clear my throat in a gesture of my nerves and wait for her to continue, her words making me relax enough to release my stance and take my grip away from my blade.

She lets out a long, drawn out sigh crossing her arms and cutting her gaze across me, as if waiting for me to speak. Though I know as I search my mind I have nothing to say. "I've never seen her look at anything the way she looks at you." Not only do her words surprise me but the tone in her voice does as well. As if in wonder or election or even both. She has a frown creasing her forehead as she gazes at me. "Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

Swallowing down my discomfort I force myself to answer the direct question with as honest an answer as I can. "I'm not certain."

Another hand rakes through long locks, spitting them across her crown. "Creators, I'm so bad at this. I'm sorry I'm not exactly explaining myself very well." That same hand leaves her hair and dexterously loosens a buckle at the neckline of her armour, pulling the strip of leather from it's confines and pulling the top of the constricting armour apart. "A very wise woman once said I could talk all night and never say a word." The contradiction in terms has never felt more fitting. The small elf exhibiting all of the nervous gestures I can imagine as she tries to put her thoughts and feelings into words. She adjusts herself and pulls a determined look across her face. "What I'm trying to say is don't fuck it up." A small decisive nod follows and she turns and begins to walk back in the direction of Kirkwall. "That'll have to do." She mutters to herself.

I am left rooted to the spot staring at the elf's back. Did that just happen? And if so what exactly just happened? I'm unsure as to if I should feel threatened or privileged to see the Hero of Ferelden in such a state over the well-being of her family. Was that heavily veiled disapproval of my involvement with my little mage or a jumbled picture of acceptance that is to murky to see?

At some point she must realise that I had not started to walk as she had along the dirt path and she turns, her boots kicking up dried earth with the movement. "Are you saying out here all day?" There in her voice is the confidence which eluded her just moments before. Why could she not have spoken with that tone and told me in simple terms as to you feelings on this matter?

After taking a deep breath I push my legs into a brisk walk to catch up silently falling into step beside the rouge only for the forms of both Isabela and Merrill to come into view just as the Pirate pokes the mage in the side making her giggle.

Isabela's wide smile greets me only for attention to shift to the warden. "That certainly looked like it went well." Even I am able to hear the sarcasm dripping from her tone.

"Shut up." Is Lyna's only reply with a good natured tone to her voice.

Thankfully the remainder of the journey back into Kirkwall is a quiet affair for me. The two friends up ahead never stopping in her giggles and chatter about Maker knows what. The only sure thing I can be certain is that Isabela must be in the mist of corrupting Merrill in some way.

The Hanged Man as we enter is quiet and dull even for this part of the day. A single man slumped over his table in the corner in a drink induced stupor and Leliana smiling brightly from her table near the bar the only occupants. Even Corff and Norah leave the bar unattended at this hour and it gives the whole place an eerily quiet air of which I am unused to.

Lyna smile lights up much of the room as the approaches her partner. Completely ignoring the sour look being sent in her direction. "You're covered in blood again." Is the first thing the bard notices

The warden shrugs at the woman snatching her mug from the tabletop. "I was making friends." She takes a sip from the steaming wooden cup the pulls it from her lips for closer inspection. "Is that tea? Where did you get tea?"

"If you had come shopping you would know such things." Leliana replies, greeting both Merrill and Isabela with a warm smile as they take a seat at her table.

"Aww, you went without me." The warden begins to whine. Pulling out a chair to take a seat. "And I was so looking forward to it." I shake my head at the action. If I remember correctly it was the chance to get away from such activity which provoked her to come on our little excursion in the first place.

"Hmm." Leliana mumbles a knowing smirk plastered across her features. "I'm sure."

"Did you get the shoes you wanted?" The wardens eyebrows light high into her hairline.

"No. I thought I might save that till later."

The resounding groan emitting from Lyna gives the impression she is much younger than she is and the whine of "Just for that, I'm keeping this tea." followed very closely by her pushing her tongue out at her partner completes the image.

My armoured hand lightly lands on Merrill's shoulder to gain her attention. "I'll come back after nightfall. Walk you home." 

Even though I am unable to feel her skin against my fingers as she reaches up to grasp them the small show of affection warms my heart. "You wont stay?"

"No. Aveline wants to see me."

The short from Isabela was predictable and she doesn't disappoint. Taking a deck of cards from only Maker knows where within her tunic and beings to shuffle them. "All Lady Man Hands needs is a dammed good rogering. Then everyone would be happy."

I sigh at the pirate vulture use of language. "If you didn't provoke her so, she wouldn't throw you into the brig quite so often."

"Really?" She deals out a hand to all at the table without asking who is playing and turns her eyes to me letting me see the amusement sparkling within them "And here I thought she just liked to see me in chains."

"The great Pirate Queen in Chains." Lyna hums low in the back of her throat, fanning her cards before her eyes only to promptly placing them face down on the table."I think I'd pay to see that." Her gaze cuts to Isabela with small predatory smile on her face and slowly her eyes drop to run along her torso.

"We all know you would." Do these two honestly not know any other form of communication? All morning I have had to put up with their wanton verbal displays of sexual appraisal, usually the double layering to their conversation making the heat on the back of my own neck rise at the content.

I clear my throat again, hoping that the noise might draw their attention away from such conversation, especial with Leliana within earshot, who to my surprise does little more than roll her eyes at the conduct. "After nightfall." I tell Merrill with a final squeeze of her shoulder the turn and leave the quiet inn.

In direct contrast the streets are Kirkwall buzz with activity all the way into Hightown, the buzz of life following me all the way in and through the Viscount's Keep. It's only when I enter the Barracks the atmosphere become more subdued. Aveline's highly disciplined ranks keeping the idle chat to a low volume, possibly to avoid her wrath. It does make me wonder what this place would be like if they know how soft the Guard Captain could become when surrounded by her surrogate family. Would the ranks dissolve into chaos? Or would a new found respect be earned from her show of humanity? A question for another time I fear.

The door to her office stands ajar and after knocking against the heavy wood I put the flat of my hand against it to gently push it open.

I find my friend to be in mid pace behind her desk. One arm across across her chest, the other folded at the elbow so her fingers can gently pluck at her lower lip in thought. "Hawke." she stops in her frantic stride to come around to the other side of her desk so she is better able to greet me. "You came."

My head tilts involuntary in question as to my friend's actions. In all the years we have known each other it is only on rare instances I have seen her pace or for that matter look at me with such desperate eyes. I am beginning to think that this should have been my first stop this morning. "Of cause I came. You're note appeared urgent."

"Thank you and it was." Her gaze hits the carpeted floor again as she beings to try her best to wear a trench in the fabric.

"I see." Crossing my arms I try my best to get out of the frantic woman's way and lean heavily on her desk, my eyes following her movements from one side of the room to the other. "Urgent enough to send a runner." I begin, if she is not forthcoming with her reason for such a summons I see no harm in speculating. "Yet not important enough to leave your office."

She stops turning to me abruptly. "Yes." She says then shakes her head. "No."

Confusion must be evident on my face for I can hear it in my voice. "Which is it?"

"I..." she stops and swallows once before moving around to the other side of her desk once more. "I have a matter of grave importance of which I can only trust to you."

Well this must be very serious. I am suddenly very glad that I came to the Barracks alone. "You're starting to make me nervous."

"I'm sorry Hawke." She opens a draw to her desk and pull a singe folded letter from within it and hold her hand out for me to take it. "I need you to put this directly into the hands of guardsman Donnic. Then tell me as to his reaction to it."

I take the small bundle from her hands, running my armoured thumb over the Guard Captain Seal. "Dispatches? You want me to hand your guardsman his orders?"

Stiffly the nods, not even daring to blink as she look upon me. "Yes."

Turning the folded parchment over I send a sidelong glance at my old friend. Questioning her with a raised eyebrow and a long look. No answer is forthcoming and neither of us can be accused of being able to express ourselves adequately with words. So with a shake of my head I stand from my perch and go off without a word in search of the guardsman.

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hmm two updates two days. I do tend to get into this fic when the mood takes me. Anyway here we go. Little bit of Lyna and little bit of Aveline... who is proving difficult to write in character. Does anyone know what happened to that 'Three's company' Isabela Hawke Fic. I remember her being written perfectly in that but I can't find it for the life of me... ahh well. Tell me what you think. This one felt so immensely tame in comparison to the violence last chapter. I need to provoke violence ohh chapter ideas. Please read and review. 


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